Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution
by PhilosopherC815
Summary: As America's youth began declining as badly as Japan's, Congress passed the Glorious Revolution Act, known far and wide as "The Program." Now, 42 students from Lake Point High School must fight for survival. Who will be the last one standing?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Battle Royale, probably never will, and am only an overzealous fan. But if I DID own it...hmmm...

**A/N:** Ha! First fanfic! This isn't much, but it's all I have done at the moment. Enjoy!

_**Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution**_

Prologue

I had read about it before. When I first read that article, which was ironically put in the "Life" section of the Sunday newspaper, I couldn't believe anyone would condone something like that. I mean, sending a group of freshman students to some secluded area to have all of them kill each other? And then one of them "winning" by killing all of their classmates? Their friends? Their lovers? And having it broadcast all over Japan? What a calamity. It made me glad I lived in America. Our government would never force anyone to kill anyone else…right?

I was wrong. I was dead wrong. America's youth was degenerating just as badly as Japan's. From the stealing, the rebellions, and the disobedience, our congress was shocked that test scores were still as high as they were. The minute those started deteriorating was the time they chose to take action. They wanted to at least give it one season. Maybe scare the kids into thinking that this could happen to them, just like the Japanese.

So the first American Program was set to go, and the lucky winner wasn't even a school with degenerates, wasn't even a school with bad test scores, and wasn't even a school in a big city.

Lake Point High School, located in good old Boise, Idaho. Some of the Program bigwigs scouted around the school for an entire week. They didn't want just any random draw, like in Japan. They wanted kids they know would provide good television. The must have looked over thousands of files, getting to know every single Freshman student's strengths, weaknesses…relationships, even.

Apparently, I was one of the 42 that impressed those bigwigs the most. I don't see why, even today, that I was picked. More importantly, scouting around and picking the students you wanted was a dumb idea. Ratings may have been important, but the point was to strike fear into the hearts of every American teenager, right? They should have picked totally random across the board. That would freak everyone out, right?

Then again, with my luck, I probably would have been one of those 42 picked in the "luck" of the draw.

Regardless of how I got to where I was, I survived it. By luck, by skill, does it really matter? 41 of my classmates died practically in our backyards on an island just off the Pacific coast. The perfect place to give kids weapons and tell them to kill each other.

I'm telling you this so I can keep my head. I can't live with not telling anyone about what I had to go through, what I had to see…maybe, just maybe, by getting my story out, I can live with myself. Congress calls it "the Glorious Revolution." Others call it "The Program."

This is the thing that has kept me up at night.

This is Battle Royale.

* * *

**Class Roster**

B1: Bell, Bruce

G1: Bolton, Michelle

B2: Britton, Jalen

G2: Brownlow, Alia

B3: Carver, Justin

G3: Burke, Victoria

B4: Darr, Kirk

G4: Byers, Jennifer

B5: Fujimoto, Takashi

G5: Chatham, Ruby

B6: Green, Cody

G6: Chon, Ji

B7: Harrison, Lance

G7: Cortez, Alana

B8: Jones, Jacob

G8: Derrer, Jaymee

B9: Jordan, Spencer

G9: Drashner, Pamela

B10: Krenz, Jeremy

G10: Ferguson, Amelia

B11: Lough, Alexander

G11: Gurnett, Diane

B12: Luttmer, Charles

G12: Guyer, Sierra

B13: McAfee, Elias

G13: Harmon, Juliet

B14: Mohler, Colin

G14: Haupt, Leslie

B15: Power, Ryan

G15: Hawkins, Molly

B16: Reeves, Samson

G16: Hunt, Melissa

B17: Roach, William

G17: Lough, Ainsley

B18, Royce, Stanley

G18: Ortiz, Lauren

B19: Tull, Glen

G19: Seibold, Jessica

B20: Valenzula, Luis

G20: Smith, Holly

B21: Warren, Paul

G21: Zorn, Megan

* * *

_(A.N- Don't worry. It won't all be in first person. I know it's not much right now, but it's a start. It's my first major foray into fan fiction, so I would appreciate some REVIEWS!! :D The first actual chapter will be up eventually…but it'll go up faster if I get some nice feedback.)_


	2. The Final Countdown

**Disclamer: **I'm pretty sure I still don't own Battle Royale. Geez, I thought I had people working on that for me?

**A/N:** Yay, the first chapter! On the same day the Prologue came out! Take that! Well...ok, so the prologue is practically nothing, but the point is, I undated pretty quickly! Don't expect the next chapter for a while, though. The only reason I got this much done was because it was a Sunday. xD Thanks to all the reviews so far, they were very appreciated! On the the story! :D

* * *

Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution

Chapter 1: The Final Countdown

Paul Warren was surprised how nice of a day it was. Boise rarely had 75 degree temperatures in the middle of March. There was a slight breeze. It wasn't enough to bring any chill, but it was just enough to keep from getting too warm. The sun was blazing, with not a cloud in sight. As he sat under the tall tree outside Lake Point High School with his two closest friends, he couldn't help but let his mind stray towards thoughts of the weather.

It was a good omen, Paul decided. It had to be a sign that things were going to be just fine on the trip to Oregon's coast. The weather was perfect enough here to hopefully stay perfect at Seaside. He had been to Seaside before, of course. His trip with the Jazz choir back in February to the coast may have been rainy and cold, but the other attractions besides the then uncomfortable beach more than made up for it.

Paul was just about to go down memory lane when he felt a sharp pain lance through his left arm. It wasn't that hard of a punch, but Paul had a pretty low tolerance for pain. He groaned in displeasure as he turned to his assailant.

"Answer the question," Jeremy Krenz said with a grin.

"What are you talking about?" Paul asked, rubbing his arm.

"Who's the better hacker, me or Ryan?" Jeremy demanded quickly, pointing to their other friend, Ryan Power, who had his back to the tree trunk.

"Neither of you," Paul replied with a grin. "It's obvious that I'm the best under this tree."

"You're no fun," Jeremy rolled his eyes. "What was up with you? You were kind of zoned out."

"It's not my fault the voices in my head talk too loud for me to hear you guys ramble on about physics."

"It wasn't _just_ about physics," Ryan clarified, brushing his long brown hair out of his eyes. "He started talking about how apparently human beings killed dinosaurs, and I told him that wasn't possible, then he started on this long winded explanation about-"

"Skip to the part where this goes into physics," Paul stopped him, having heard the two bicker about that same subject for the better part of a year now. Ryan opened his mouth to tell him, but before he could get a sound out, Paul decided he didn't want to know. "Save it, it's probably something I won't follow anyway."

Ryan, of course, couldn't resist. Paul knew that Ryan probably knew more about science and technology than anyone in the school, including the teachers. As the baggy clothed 15 year old with the somewhat emo haircut went on and on, Paul decided to zone out yet again. Many of his other classmates were waiting outside the school with them as well, waiting for the numerous buses that would take them to Oregon for their Spring Break trip. A couple yards away, a group of cheerleaders were laughing about something. Although he didn't recognize some of them, he could easily pick out Jessica Seibold laughing the hardest. The blond haired, blue eyed bombshell was probably in the dreams of most of the freshman class, but definitely not Paul's. He had known her since grade school, and knew more about how much of a bitch she could be than most of his peers. Then again, most people knew this already, but she was pretty "easy," so not many people cared.

Surrounding her was her even bitchier friends Michelle Bolton and Ji Chon. Michelle, while not a cheerleader herself, had somehow wiggled her overweight self into a group of pretty girls through her connections with Jessica. The two had been friends all their lives, or at least as long as Paul knew them. Ji wasn't a cheerleader either, but she was pretty enough to pass herself off as one, and charismatic enough to make people actually believe she was. This same charisma had catapulted her to the top of the class student council, where she presided as President. She was nice enough by herself when not surrounded by a posse of cheerleader pals, but when she was with them, she was a wildcat. Paul couldn't understand how she could change so sharply.

Under a different tree sat a group of four, but it may as well have been a group similar to Paul's. While fellow Jazz Choir member Samson Reeves seemed to be making his cross country runner girlfriend Megan Zorn and her gal pal yearbook staff photographer Jaymee Derrer laugh with one of his many jokes, the fourth member, Jalen Britton, seemed to be under the same tree by accident. While Samson, Megan and Jaymee all wore bright colors, Jalen was dressed in all black, and had recently shaved his head. Having been in the same English class as Jalen that semester, Paul knew all about his dark outlook on life and the government. He didn't seem to fit in very well with the other three members of his group. Nonetheless, there Jalen was, paying attention to the conversation but not once cracking a smile.

Paul continued to scan the rather large crowd of his classmates before his eyes screeched to halt on Juliet Harmon. To those who didn't know her very well, Juliet was merely an unassuming choir nerd with the best singing voice in the grade. Paul, however, saw much more. Maybe it was because she was the girl with whom he had shared his first kiss with, or maybe it was because the two used to spend hours chatting over the phone. Either way, Paul knew she was more than what met the eye.

Juliet, who looked to be deep in conversation with her friend, fellow choir nerd Alia Brownlow, probably didn't have a clue her ex-boyfriend was staring at her, his heart full of pain. Paul thought the reason they broke up was complete stupidity. The two had gotten along just fine until Juliet's parents took a strong disliking to Paul over his religion. The minute they retracted their blessing for the relationship, Juliet had no choice but to break it off. Despite the relationship ending more than a month ago, Paul still harbored love for her. He had no way of knowing her feelings, since the two hadn't spoken with each other since the break up. Even when passing each other in the halls, they couldn't bear to look at each other.

Paul sighed, then realized that Ryan had ended his explanation more than 30 seconds ago. With a start, he looked at his two expectant friends and said, "I told you I wouldn't follow that at all."

"You weren't even listening," Jeremy said bluntly.

"So?" Paul laughed. This led to Jeremy punching him once more, leading into another yelp of pain.

"It's ok," Ryan said. "No harm done. You probably wouldn't have understood it anyway."

"Why can't you two ever talk about normal things?" Paul asked. "You know, like Rock Band or something?"

"You can't carry a conversation on a video game like Rock Band for more than a few minutes!" Jeremy started. "Games like Final Fantasy, sure, you could go into it for hours. But on Rock Band, all that there's really to talk about is the music, and let's face it, Nobuo Uematsu writes better stuff than anything Rock Band could supply."

"So you still haven't passed B.Y.O.B?" Paul guessed.

"Yes," Jeremy sighed. "But neither has Ryan!"

"Yeah I have," their friend contradicted.

"We're talking about Rock Band, not Guitar Hero: World Tour."

"I've done it for both. It's not that bad."

"You can shut up now," Jeremy said. "The point is, you can't carry a conversation like this!"

"What about Everlong?" Paul asked Ryan. "I know you've had trouble with that."

As Ryan entered into a lengthy explanation of how long it took him to finally beat Everlong on expert drums, Jeremy sighed, defeated.

* * *

"I told you we would be the first ones on the bus if we waited at the curb!" Jennifer "Jenny" Byers told her friend, Melissa Hunt. "But you were like, 'No way, someone will beat us!' Take that!"

"Like it matters anyway!" Melissa defended herself. The two girls had indeed been the first two on any bus, just due to their close proximity to both their assigned bus and the curb where the busses would be arriving. All students knew what bus they would be on, because it had long been assigned to them. A few of the students weren't pleased they couldn't just be on any bus they chose, but the teachers were adamant on the assignments, saying it would be easier that way to tell who would be where. Melissa supposed it was fair enough, but she would have liked the freedom of choice.

At least Jenny would be there to help pass the six hour drive to Seaside. As they entered their bus, Melissa snapped a quick photo with her father's camera. She had been warned not to break it or lose it at any cost, or face the iron wrath of grounding as soon as her trip was over. This camera was way better than her's, though, so it would be worth it even if she lost this one. The quality of the photos would be much better.

"Are you going to be taking pictures of everything?" Jenny asked exasperatedly. "It's not like you have a shooting assignment this week."

"I know," Melissa said. "But it couldn't hurt for my extra credit chances. You know I want that A in Photo I, especially now that I have Mrs. Knight for a teacher. Do you have any idea how badly she marked down my last assignment just because I didn't add any sharpening? How could she even tell?"

"To quote someone I know, 'like it matters anyway.'" Jenny laughed. When she saw the look that Melissa gave her, she hastily added "Kidding, kidding. Chill out."

Photography was as important to Melissa as breathing. She couldn't imagine her future without her camera. She knew that Jenny would probably go into something requiring the use of at least three languages in her quest to become an interpreter, which always seemed to be needed somewhere. She likely saw photography as a go nowhere job, but not to Melissa.

Two other girls walked in shortly after them. Melissa, not wanting to miss a thing, snapped their photos as well. While Ainsley Lough genuinely smiled for the camera, which seemed to juxtapose her Gothic style, her friend and fellow Goth Diane Gurnett was too surprised to smile in time. She smiled artificially just after the flash. When Melissa asked for another try, Diane jokingly told her to kill herself as she took her seat. Melissa stuck her tongue out at the calculating Goth, who proceeded to not as jokingly point her black polished middle finger at the paparazzi.

Melissa proceeded to take pictures of everyone who entered the bus from her seat in the third aisle next to Jenny. While some people, like the timid, glasses wearing, acne ridden Bruce Bell, the frizzy red haired Ruby Chatham, and Japanese exchange student Takashi Fujimoto, didn't even glimpse at the camera, many were in good enough moods to strike a nice little pose. The cute couple consisting of Kirk Darr and Pamela Drashner gave the camera a cute candid of a peck on the lips. Glen Tull, the self proclaimed "drama guy," gave the camera a wink. Spencer Jordan, a short, overweight math whiz, gave the Nixon double peace sign.

Others smiled, but didn't really give much of a pose. Paul Warren, Ryan Power, and Jeremy Krenz, who had been chatting about Rock Band 2 as they entered, were all too distracted at discussing their highest scores for a certain song to give much of a pose. Cody Green, a basketball player, was in too much of a rush to get to the bathroom at the back of the charter bus, although his desperation gave Melissa some nice composition. Elias McAfee was too socially inept to smile properly, and instead starred blankly at the camera. A large group of girls consisting of Jessica Seibold, Michelle Bolton, Ji Chon, fellow cheerleader Victoria Burke, Amelia Ferguson the artist, a pair of choir nerds who had been Juliet Harmon and Alia Brownlow, and party girl Alana Cortez were all in a shoving match to get to the back seats.

What may have been Melissa's most eruptive picture came somewhat expectedly as a group of jocks hurried onto the bus. Melissa was leery about taking a photo of them, since they had a reputation of being violent. She didn't want the camera to bust this early, after all.

She was just about to put her camera out of sight from them when their leader saw it. Luis Valenzula, the star freshman running back, gave a shout. "Oh my God, a camera!"

He would have reached out to grab it, but both his arms were tied around his current groupie, Sierra Guyer. Thus, he ordered one of his football friends, Charles "Chuck" Luttmer, to grab it for him. Despite Chuck being slightly larger than Luis, he complied anyway. Luis seemed to have a firm hold on his entire group.

"Leave it alone!" Molly Hawkins, class Vice President, yelled at the group.

One of the jocks, cross country runner Alex Lough, laughed. "Are you going to make us? It's just a camera, and we want pictures."

"Alex, shut up and sit down," Ainsley Lough piped up. The twins hated each other for no real reason other than having been born on the same day and to the same family. "Don't be such a jerk."

"Don't be so ugly" was Alex's comeback.

"Good one, loser," Molly said. "Just sit down already, people are trying to get through." It was true. A line was forming with Lance Harrison the British exchange student, Colin Mohler the awkward kid, and Holly Smith, genius extraordinaire.

In the commotion, Melissa got a picture of Alex and Molly yelling at each other with several people looking on in bewilderment. Afterwards, she quickly hid her camera in its case. Luis eventually got bored of the argument, flipped Molly off, and told his group to find some seats. Most of his group complied, but Alex stayed his ground.

"You know," he said to Molly. "You would be pretty hot if you could just shut your damn mouth."

"Can it, airhead, and move along," she said calmly. Alex spat at her feet, but obeyed. The line had grown so long now he would have been stupid not to comply. As the line moved along to get their seats, Melissa hurriedly tried to get her camera back out despite Jenny's hushed protests. Although she missed most of the kids, she did manage to get Samson Reeves and his group photographed, as well as a couple kids she couldn't recognize.

Before long, the bus was completely filled. Their chaperone, Mrs. Yaka, called role. Instead of calling names like any other teacher would, Mrs. Yaka tried to make it into a lesson in Japanese, insisting on giving the alphabetical list numbers. Bruce Bell, for example, was _ichi_.

"Figures," Jenny whispered to Melissa. "We can't get away from school for long, can we?" Melissa nodded in agreement.

When the role call was done and the okay to leave was sent out, the bus began rolling, getting a cheer out of most of the students.

"Somebody throw on some music!" called out Chuck.

Luckily, this was thought of right away. Apparently, Paul Warren burned a CD especially for the trip. He was sitting in the front row anyway, and handed his CD to Mrs. Yaka. Luckily the bus had speakers, and the music began quickly. The opening licks were instantly recognized as an 80's classic.

"_We're leaving together,  
But still its farewell  
And maybe we'll come back,  
To earth, who can tell?  
I guess there is no one to blame  
We're leaving ground  
Will things ever be the same again?_

It's the final countdown…"

* * *

A couple of hours later, Lance Harrison was in the midst of telling those around him a story in his heavy British accent. "So I shot at the sodding fusion coil to take that bloke with me, yes? But it didn't turn out like I planned."

He paused a bit, hoping to have someone interested enough to ask what had happened. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

"So how _did_ it turn out?" Wil Roach, the shortest kid on the bus, asked his fellow gamer.

"You know that traffic cone that's inexplicably next to it?"

"Don't tell me," Justin Carver, a tech student, interrupted. "That cone fired into you when you shot the coil?"

"Well…yeah," Lance said, downtrodden. "At least let me finish the story, mate. You're not even making it fun."

"Halo 3 is predictable," Justin said. "Call of Duty 4, however…"

"Don't get me started," Wil said. "Halo 3 is clearly the better multiplayer experience."

"All three of you are nerds for even talking about this!" Glen Tull turned back to face the three gamers. "I can't decide which of you guys is worse: you three with your constant chat about Halo, or the other three in front of me who won't be quiet with the Rock Band stuff."

"We can hear you, you know," Ryan called from his seat, two rows in front of Lance's group. Lance thought he could hear Jeremy Krenz try to say something, but he was muffled somehow. That didn't last long, though.

"Gross!" Paul Warren yelled. "Way mature," he added sarcastically.

"Don't put your hand over my mouth next time, then," Jeremy said smugly. Evidently, he licked Paul's hand.

"Yuck, do you think I have AIDS now?" Paul wondered aloud. Lance couldn't tell if he was joking. American's were so odd.

"Why would you have AIDS?" Lance called. He received no answer, so he turned to Wil.

Seeing Wil only further confused him. Wil all of a sudden had his face on the window, eyes closed. Lance, thinking himself the victim of a joke, prodded Wil, but to no avail. He had really fallen asleep.

"What the heck, mate, it's not even dark out yet!" he yelled. He turned to Justin for help, but he looked to have fallen asleep too.

"Wil? Justin?" Lance stood up, looking around to everyone else. To his shock, many other kids seemed to be in the same state that his two friends were in.

"What…?" Lance was bewildered. He wanted to yell out something, but all of a sudden, he was really tired, as well as somewhat dizzy. "What's…w-what's…g-oin'…ooooooon?"

The final thing Lance saw as he slipped into unconsciousness was Mrs. Yaka standing in the middle of the aisle, wearing a gas mask.

* * *

_(A.N-I don't know if this is considered long, but if it is, sorry. I doubt it will be the standard length, so expect it shorter next time. Review, even if you don't like it! I'm trying to make the readers happier with my writing, and the only way that can happen is FEEDBACK! So review! :P)_


	3. Welcome to the Neighborhood

**Disclaimer:** Battle Royale? Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah, I still don't own it.

**A.N.:** Yay, new chapter! Sorry for the long wait...not only is this chapter longer than my prologue and first chapter combined, but I also had real life to deal with. Homework and my school musical have a higher priority than Glorious Revolution, sorry. xD But hey, thanks for waiting so long! Enjoy!

* * *

Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Neighborhood

_She had to explain this several times before the woman understood. As usual, the explanation always embarrassed her, no matter who she was telling. The only reason this embarrassed Leslie Haupt more than usual was that she had to be explaining herself to none other than her Japanese teacher, Mrs. Yaka._

_"So you see, _Sensei, watashi _would be more correct for me than _boku_, since I'm really a girl."_

_Mrs. Yaka was silent for a moment before turning as red as her sweater. She stuttered quite a bit as she tried to find how to politely apologize before she finally settled on "I'm so sorry about this misunderstanding! I just assumed-"_

_"Everyone does," Leslie interrupted. "Could you please just change the grade now?"_

_"O-of course!" Mrs. Yaka quickly agreed, practically ripping the page of homework assigned from the night before out of Leslie's hands. Leslie stood by as Mrs. Yaka made the correct annotations that Leslie had pointed out, mainly changing her previously marked down feminine usage to be shown as correct. By the time she had finished, Leslie's grade had risen quite a few percentage points. It was at least enough to bring her to a B for the assignment. Not that it helped her dignity or anything._

_Leslie knew she was ugly enough to be considered a boy. Her hair was cut short, her bust was practically microscopic compared to those of girls such as Jessica Seibold, and she hated all girly things with a passion. Makeup and dresses just didn't suit Leslie's style. Her face did nothing to help show she was female, either, as it was just as unappealing as the rest of her body. Acne covered most of her facial regions, despite anything Leslie tried to get rid of it. Her teeth were far from straight, and although they soon would be thanks to her braces, at the moment they looked beastly. There were always dark bags under her eyes, and Leslie did nothing to cover them up._

_And going by the nickname "Les" and having an unnaturally deep voice was likely a good reason everyone thought the wrong thing, too._

_Now that even her teachers noticed her as a boy, Leslie knew she would be feeling even more insecure than usual. However, despite being as close to tears as she always was whenever she had to explain this, she knew she wouldn't change. She was already unpopular; she figured a makeover wouldn't change that, nor would it change her voice or her mindset. She would only hate herself more for being something she wasn't._

_Besides, at least in her current state, she was somewhat invisible. Everyone may have thought of her as a boy at the first glance, but she would most likely never be glanced at by the same person again. She liked that. It meant that she could get by most things without drama, which was the one thing she hated most about school._

_The only thing that kept her from total depression was her guitar, who never judged her. She was the lead guitarist for Thunder Empire, a band she had started with one of her only friends, Jacob Jones, who played drums. Even though they were still in their garage phase, Leslie felt most at ease whenever she was playing music. It kept her from feeling things._

_Her relationship with Jacob was, luckily, not very complex. While she knew that Jacob knew she was, in fact, female, they were strictly platonic and mainly talked about the band. Their personal lives were their own. Despite this, she cared more about what Jacob thought than anyone else in the world, even her parents. Jacob, even with his mainly nonchalant attitude, could help her feel happy even in silence._

_Unfortunately, neither Jacob nor her guitar was with her at that moment. As soon as Mrs. Yaka gave back her paper, Leslie left without so much as a _sayonara. _Luckily, she wasn't a boy. If she was, she wouldn't have been able to cry as freely as she exited the classroom. And luckily, since she was so invisible, no one would notice those tears._

* * *

Leslie Haupt refused to open her eyes quite yet.

It may have been a really crappy memory to dream about, but she was tired. Sleeping in was one of her favorite pastimes. She had nothing much to do in real life, anyway. At least sleeping passed time in an orderly, non threatening manner, as well as kept you healthy.

There was a problem that Leslie couldn't identify, though. Something wasn't right here. She was too tired to put her finger on it, but she knew there was definitely something wrong. In her state of lethargy, she struggled to find the word. Confusion? Maybe. Premonition? A little better. Foreboding. That was it. It was a sense of foreboding.

Leslie was somewhat more awake as she realized this. She never normally had the intuition the suddenly forebode stuff. That just wasn't her character. Deep thinking was for people like Holly Smith or Ryan Power. What was so different that she suddenly had this ominous feeling?

_Wait a minute. _It was too silent. The last thing she remembered, she was on the bus to Seaside. She was sitting next to Jacob Jones, but she didn't remember any substantial conversation, other than Jacob talking about how his sister was messing with his drum set the night before, and how both thought that the trip was just a complete waste of time when they could have gotten the band together for a few practice sessions.

_But I can't be on the bus. There should be an engine running, the sound of the road whizzing by, maybe even some tossing and turning in seats. But there's none of that. And I don't remember putting my head down on some desk._

_Woah. A desk?_

Leslie was just about to fully come to her senses when a nearby yell brought her to them prematurely.

"Where the FUCK are we?" came the yell of Luis Valenzula.

That, as Leslie came to find out upon opening her eyes, seemed to be a very good question. They obviously weren't on the bus anymore. Instead, the entire group was in some kind of classroom, and all of them were sitting in desks.

Leslie was more confused than she normally would have been if she hadn't still been somewhat drowsy. Why would they all be in a classroom? AS far as she knew, they hadn't returned home. The classroom was too different than the ones back at Lake Point anyway.

Maybe they were in Oregon after all. _But if we are,_ thought Leslie, _how come I don't remember getting here?_ Leslie struggled to come up with a solid reason for their sudden arrival, the rest of the students surrounding her were in different states of chaos and confusion.

"Samson!" cried Megan Zorn the cross-country queen. "Where are you?"

"What the hell?" Bill Royce, a relatively quiet, bespectacled kid, expressed his confusion as he tried to open the nearest door. "Guys, we're locked in!"

"Where are we, anyway?" Glen Tull asked nervously, wringing his hands together. He stood up, looking around for a window, but found none. "It's almost like a cell, only it's a classroom."

"I always figured I would die in a classroom," Cody Green was saying to everyone near him. "Definitely not the way I want to go, but hey, at least I always knew it would happen…" He was about to continue, but a withering look from Alia Brownlow, one of the choir nerds, caused him to shut his mouth.

While many of the students rose from their desks to reunite with their friends, a few students stayed put in their desks, too confused to do anything more than survey their surroundings. Leslie was among them, trying to piece together any clues of where they were, but not getting anything more than a classroom with no windows and nothing written on the whiteboard.

_Jacob. Jacob has to know what's going on._ Leslie was sure of it. He was the smartest person she talked to on a regular basis. He could explain everything to her. She scanned the sea of faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Takashi Fujimoto was openly sobbing at his desk. Holly Smith, who everyone believed was a genius despite her general denials, was talking in a hushed voice with Molly Hawkins, trying to calm her down. Megan Zorn and Samson Reeves embraced just two desks away from Jalen Britton, who sat back in his desk with his usual glare plastered on his pierced face.

Leslie finally saw Jacob, who was sitting quietly in his desk next to Bruce Bell, who was yelling unintelligible words in a cracking voice. She was just about to go and meet up with him when a sharp whistle sliced the air. The entire room came to a tense silence as the owner of that whistle raised her voice.

"Everyone!" Ji Chon yelled. "Just shut up for five seconds so we can get our bearings straight!"

"There's nothing TO get straight," replied Diane Gurnett the Goth. "We know nothing about where the hell we are."

"Which is exactly why we need to go over what we _do_ know," Ji powered on. "Let's just start with the basics."

The class began to hang on their President's every word as Ji began to talk with the grace that won her the office in the first place. Leslie, despite her intense dislike for Ji, knew that if anyone could get them out of any situation, it would have to be their leader. _Ji may be a cold bitch, but she's smart._

"So let's go with the five W's and the H. Obviously, the who is all of us, but there's something about us that's different…I suppose all of you have noticed that we're wearing some sort of metallic collar?"

Leslie actually hadn't noticed that until Ji said so, but now that it had been brought to her attention, she felt the coldness around her neck. _Great, I'm being slapped with jewelry._ She had no memory of wearing any sort of necklace or collar. Too female for her. Whoever put this on her had to be joking.

"Does anyone have any idea what these are supposed to do?" When no one spoke up, Ji sighed and continued on. "The what is that we seem to be trapped in this classroom, the where, unless that door was unlocked in the past few minutes."

She looked at Bill and Glen, who were both still by the door. They both tried the doorknob, but there was no point. They were clearly locked in.

"Now, can anyone remember when we arrived here?" Ji pressed on. "Because the last thing I remember was…" She fell silent. Leslie rolled her eyes, figuring that Ji was trying to cover up for whatever misdeeds she was doing on the bus with Jessica Seibold, Michelle Bolton and Victoria Burke. _Politicians…can't they ever tell the truth?_

Ji cleared her throat. "All I remember was sitting on the bus talking with my friends."

"My ass!" yelled Megan Zorn, still embracing Samson, who was paying rapt attention to Ji. "Don't pretend to be a saint, Ji, I heard what you were-"

"That's neither here nor there," Ji interrupted, turning a slight pink. "I know it was late afternoon when that happened, but I don't remember falling asleep at all."

"I can't either," spoke up Holly Smith.

"Same here," added Juliet Harmon, who looked scarred.

"Don't tell me you tarts can't remember anything!" Lance Harrison the British exchange student stood up from his desk, obviously genuinely confused. "Am I the only person who saw it?"

"Saw what, Lance?" Ji asked diplomatically, trying to keep one person talking at once.

Lance didn't have a chance to explain what he had seen, because a cry came out of nowhere from the back of the room. Now Takashi Fujimoto was standing, both hands on his desk, steadying himself. Leslie could tell he was more scarred than anyone in the room just by the ravaged, crazed look on his face, slightly covered by his grown out jet black hair.

"_Anata baka na amerikajin!_" yelled the transfer student in his native language. "_Miru kotogadekinia ka? Kore wa watashitachi no shi dearu!"_

Leslie tried to keep up with Takashi's speech, but found there was no way she could have translated it all. She barely caught the words she knew, knowing that _baka_ meant "idiot" and _watashitachi_ meant "us." She knew she should have paid more attention in Yaka's stupid class…

Apparently, someone speaking in a language other than English made Luis Valenzula angry. "If you're going to live in this country, learn the language, you stupid-"

"_Kore wa oko rukoto ga dekinai! Boku wa riyuu notameni satta!" _Takashi continued in great distress.

"Can anyone tell what he's saying?" Ji asked politely.

Leslie only knew rudimentary Japanese. She could have told Ji that, but wanted to stay in the background. Instead, Ryan Power spoke up.

"He called us fools before," he translated. "Then something about our deaths…then he started talking so fast I couldn't catch any of it."

"_Sore wa hakore ga oko ranaikotowo boku o yakusoku shita!_" Then came a disgusted sob. "_Yakusoku sareru!_"

Lauren Ortiz, a quiet girl who was always writing, tried to put her hand on the stricken Takashi's shoulder, but when she did he burst out with a "_Boku ni furete haikenai! Teki dearu! Anata hou mina haaru!"_ With this, she quickly sat back down. Leslie didn't blame her.

Next to Leslie, Melissa Hunt had taken out her camera. She had begun to snap photos from the second Takashi started ranting, sending flashes throughout the room.

"I swear to God, I'm going to break that camera!" Kirk Darr was beginning to lose his temper, and was trying to reach for the camera until his girlfriend, Pamela Drashner, held him back. Melissa, of course, took a picture of this as well. _Don't you know when to quit?_

"Everyone, calm down!" Ji tried to assert control again, but by now, the class was in chaos again. Bruce Bell began to scream again, while more people, Paul Warren, Jeremy Krenz, and Ryan Power among them, tried to figure out a way of unlocking the door. Their combined efforts were still futile.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" Luis stood up, motioned to his loyal group of jocks, and headed to the door. The jocks pushed the others crowding the door away, and prepared to charge the door. "We're going to break this mother down on the count of three!" Chuck Luttmer and Alex Lough braced themselves for the coming charge.  
"One…two…"

Without warning, the door opened by itself. What was on the other side made everyone immediately back away. Mrs. Yaka, their chaperone, calmly walked into the classroom, flanked by three heavily armed soldiers on each side of her, pointing their machine guns at everyone in the room. Leslie stifled a scream, but Megan couldn't. She let out a high pitched wail of terror, which in turn caused many more to start screaming as well.

A single gunshot screams louder than humans, Leslie came to realize. Mrs. Yaka took out some sort of handgun and fired it up into the air, immediately silencing all activities.

"I don't believe I dismissed any of you students yet," she said coldly. "Sit down, all of you." There was a pause in which no one moved, and the only sound was that of Takashi whispering something unintelligible in Japanese. "Did I stutter?" the teacher raised her voice. "I said SIT DOWN!"

Leslie's confusion turned very quickly into sheer fright, not only because of the screaming, the guns, and the fact that she _still_ didn't know where she were, but also because of Mrs. Yaka. The Japanese teacher she knew was always so happy, smiled constantly, and spoke gently. This wasn't the Yaka Leslie knew. This was some sort of bitter, frowning, cold version of her.

Luckily Leslie was still sitting, and didn't need to fear her suddenly juxtaposed teacher shooting her in the face. The other students standing quickly ran to their original desks under the watchful gaze of the seven different weapons. That is, all except for one.

"Miss Zorn, I believe I said sit down. I won't repeat myself again," Mrs. Yaka growled.

"Not until I get some answers!" Megan said bravely. "Where are we? Why are you doing this? What's happening?"

"At least one of those questions would have been answered by now if you weren't wasting the class' time with your disobedience," the Japanese teacher replied with an edge to her voice. "You have one strike. If you don't sit down in the next five seconds, you'll have two. Don't make me get to three, especially now that we have a schedule to keep."

"Schedule?" Megan asked. "What kind of-"

"Three…four…"

Megan quickly took her spot, not pushing her luck any further.

"Thank you." Mrs. Yaka paused to look at the clipboard in her other hand. "I believe that we have forty-two students in this classroom? If there aren't, somebody screwed with the lists." She manually counted each and every student, all of whom were still quiet as mice. "Ok, good, good. All 42 of you are alive and well, and all healthy…as far as we know." She gave a condescending look to Spencer Jordan, the heaviest student in the glass, who gulped loudly.

"But of course, therein lies the problem."

Mrs. Yaka turned around towards the board, writing various things. To the left of Leslie, Melissa tried to take her camera out again, but stopped when Mrs. Yaka called out "I have eyes in the back of my head, Miss Hunt. You should know that by now. Is that camera worth your life?"

Megan started whispering to Samson, who was just across the aisle from her, but Mrs. Yaka heard it. "No talking, Miss Zorn. This is an important lesson." Megan opened her mouth angrily to talk back, but Samson took her hand and shook his head. Leslie tried not to pay attention to Megan. She was bound to get somebody killed if she kept on disobeying Mrs. Yaka, especially when there were so many guns in the room.

Mrs. Yaka turned back towards the class, revealing what she had written:

42 students

3 countries

1 Glorious Revolution

"There are 42 of you, yes," Mrs. Yaka started. "Most of you are American, but Mr. Harrison and Fujimoto-san over there are transfer students. But that doesn't give them any immunity to this. Ladies and gentlemen, have any of you read of the newest act passed by Congress?"

There was silence.

"No one? Tsk tsk. It's a good thing I'm not your history teacher, then."

"Mrs. Yaka-"

"Miss Zorn, you didn't raise your hand. I'm afraid that's strike two." Mrs. Yaka smiled a smile that did not go with her features at all. Leslie would have likened it to some sort of demonic pose if she wasn't so afraid.

Jalen Britton did not make the same mistake as Megan did. Although Leslie knew he had a reputation as a rebel, he raised his hand to speak instead of just blurting out an answer.

"Mr. Britton?" Mrs. Yaka asked. "You know what the act is?"

"Yeah…" he started in his deep voice. "And it's vile. I can't believe it was passed."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Mr. Britton, I asked for facts."

"It's Battle Royale! Congress adopted Battle Royale!"

The class reaction was about half and half. While Leslie and many of the other students had no idea what this Battle Royale was, the rest of the class let out a collective gasp. A few screamed. Takashi once again began to cry. Everyone began whispering again, and Mrs. Yaka was forced to fire her handgun into the ceiling once more to assert control over the students once more.

"That's right, Mr. Britton. I'm not surprised you know about it. But that's for the Japanese. Here in America, it's been christened Glorious Revolution." She turned to the board to write other aliases, such as "The Program" and "The BR Act."

"Now, what exactly is Glorious Revolution, some of you may ask?" After pausing for effect, she went on. "This Act has been passed by Congress to help combat the major decline in American youth. Test scores have been plummeting. The juvenile crime rate is at its highest since the 70s. Teen pregnancy continues to rise higher and higher." Mrs. Yaka gave a sinister smile. "What kind of representation is that to all the other noble countries overseas?"

The class was still in a deadly silence. Leslie felt her fear turn into anger. _What city has she been living in? Idaho has none of that!_

"America didn't know what to do about this. So we looked to one of our allies, who just happen to have the same problems: The Republic of Greater East Asia-"

"Communist!" coughed Megan.

"Two and a half, Miss Zorn," Mrs. Yaka glared at the runner. "Now you're making me really want to get to three, insulting my homeland like that. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. The Republic of Greater East Asia had a wonderful solution to their problems. Some revolutionaries called it barbaric and twisted, but really, who can argue with results?"

She looked over the entire class, some still silently crying, some with blank looks of shock, and others in deep confusion. Then she smiled.

"They called it Battle Royale, and it has since become the most popular reality show in all of Japan, the prize being none other than your life. You see, forty-two of you are in this classroom. Only one of you can remain. You will all be given packs containing food, water, a compos, a map of this area, and a weapon. Then, it's dog eat dog. Kill or be killed. If you want freedom, you must take it yourself."

Those who still had no idea what this was all about were now gasping the same gasp they heard just minutes ago. Megan even screamed. Leslie felt like she had been hit with some sort of blunt object.

_Kill or be killed? No…this can't be real!_ Leslie immediately looked around for Jacob, who she still hadn't talked to. Still sitting in his same seat, he was looking straight ahead, arms folded, looking positively, shockingly calm. He looked towards Leslie's face of terror, and gave a small smile and a wink. Leslie knew enough about him to know that those gestures were his code for "Everything will be just fine."

Leslie wanted to believe him, but couldn't. She had just been condemned to death. Sure, she all around hated life, but she could never take anyone else's life. That was too cruel. Why ruin the chance to live for someone else when yours is the only life you hate? More than ever, Leslie wished that she just stayed home from the trip, along with her two smarter bandmates who had the balls to skip out from a major school vacation like this.

With a realization, Leslie realized that it wasn't only her and Jacob's life in danger. _Thunder Empire is all but dead now…we were poised to make it big. Now what?_

Leslie's thoughts were interrupted by a sinister giggle from Yaka. "I suppose now that we're all on the same page, I can explain the rules better."

She went to the far edge of the board and pulled down the map that was attached to it. It was a map of some sort of island, in some sort of grid structure.

"This is where our game will be played," Yaka pointed. "This is an island just off the West Coast, near Hawaii but not a part of it. It's this wonderful, tropical locale where all of you will be fighting for both your lives and the entertainment value of everyone on the mainland. As you can see, the island is cut into squares, each numbered according to their place on the grid. At the moment, all of you are in area C7, where this school is located. One by one, alternating boy and girl starting with Boy #1, our very own Bruce Bell-"

A whimper broke the silence of the class. Everyone turned to Bruce Bell, who looked as if someone had poisoned him.

"-and ending with our mouthy Girl #21, Megan Zorn." Yaka smiled artificially at the cross country runner, who had a monstrous glare seemingly glued onto her visage. Leslie thought it looked unnatural for her, having never seen Megan so angry before. She was generally a nice person, always sticking up for the little guy. Leslie never knew she had such a formidable glare as well.

"As you leave," Yaka continued. "you will each be given the pack I told you all about earlier. Remember to always keep your map close at hand. If you manage to survive into late game, you'll need it to stay out of danger zones."

This was getting more complicated for Leslie. _Killing, maps…danger zones? What is this?_

"I see Mr.-excuse me…_Miss_ Haupt is confused," Yaka said viciously, looking Leslie in the eye. Leslie immediately felt tears start to form in those same eyes from the cheap shot. She turned red, feeling the eyes of most of the class on her. Ainsley Lough, one of the Goths who was sitting in back of Leslie, put her hand on the somewhat masculine girl's shoulder. Leslie shrugged it off, not wanting any sort of fake sympathy.

"I'll explain it just for him…ugh, my bad. _Her._ You see those collars around each and every one of your necks?"

Every student began to feel the collars upon hearing Yaka talk about them.

"Those aren't ordinary dog collars. Those collars are the highest of the tech, shipped over just for this game from the RGEA. Not only do they register where you are on the island, but they are also set up with micro cameras that will allow viewers around the world to follow the program through the eyes of any of you lucky students. Not to mention the monitoring of your vital signs, so when any of you bite it at the hands of a more ambitious player, we'll know it."

The last statement causes some of the students to look around at each other suspiciously, Leslie included. Now that the initial shock had worn off a little bit, she started to analyze her classmates. Would any of them do the unthinkable and buy into this? Could any of them truly be trusted?

Leslie had her doubts, but the game hadn't started yet. As long as they were in this classroom, they were safe from doubt.

"Remember those danger zones I told you all about?" Yaka reminded the suspicious ones. "Well, every four hours they will be announced as grid positions on your map. You don't want to be caught in a danger zone. Why, you may ask? Because those collars are rigged to explode as soon as you enter one. The explosion has enough force to take your head cleanly off in a nice, gory mess." She giggled. "It seems to happen all the time in the Republic's version. Always a crowd pleaser."

_Disgusting!_ Leslie thought. She tried to imagine that happening to anyone, but just couldn't see it. Too horrible to think about.

"If you're in a recently announced danger zone, you'll have fifteen minutes to get out of there before you erupt in a nice shower of brain matter. You'll also have fifteen minutes to leave school grounds once you are released. Once you leave the school, it becomes a permanent danger zone, so luckily for me, I won't ever have to see any of you again afterwards, except for the winner. All of your collars will also explode if a death doesn't occur once every twenty-four hours. If, by the end of seventy-two hours, there is no winner, any remaining contestants will have their collars explode as well, which would be such an anti-climax it wouldn't even be remotely entertaining.

"Remember, this will be televised across America. Some of you will be popular enough to become household names, some of you will be rooted against. Bets will take place. So try and play up to the cameras, and be more creative than just gunshots. Those can get old after a while."

Yaka paused, looking at the clock, which read 11:45 P.M. "Good," she said. "It looks like we're ahead of schedule. I know some of you must have questions, so get them out of your system now. They won't be answered later. Remember, _raise your hands._"

Diane Gurnett rose her hand immediately.

"Yes, Miss Gurnett?"

Diane sighed before asking her simple question. "Why us?"

"Elaborate," Yaka told her.

"Why was our school…the forty-two of us…why were we chosen for this?" Diane spoke seriously, but eloquently. "You said this Act was to combat all that's wrong with the youth of America. As far as I know, Lake Point doesn't have any of those problems. In fact, our test scores are above average, and a lot of the people I know in here are honors students. So why were we the first ones?"

"The school was not specifically chosen," Yaka explained. "It was merely a lottery of all the high schools in America. Obviously, Congress was hoping for a school with more delinquents than Lake Point, but they worked with what they could. The forty-two of you, however, were all specifically chosen for this."

"Then it's even more important to know why we're here!" Diane said urgently.

"The reason you all were picked, I'm afraid, is classified," Mrs. Yaka said simply. "And I didn't say you could talk back, so I'll have to give you a strike."

Diane didn't speak out again, but merely sat back in her chair, looking defeated. Beside her, the hand of Alia Brownlow rose into the air.

"Miss Brownlow?"

"Do our parents know what has happened to us?" she asked, her face red from crying.

"They were notified shortly after the bus left for Seaside. Needless to say, not very many of them were happy…a few had to be silenced."

"What did you do with my parents, you cow?!" Alia stood up, speaking sharply.

"_I_ didn't do anything," Mrs. Yaka said simply. "The government did. But if I remember correctly, I don't believe your father cared very much about your departure, Miss Brownlow."

Alia's face registered shock. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then tried to open it again, but only made a croaking noise. When she finally regained her composure, she asked "What about my mother?"

"You know very well what her reaction would have been if your father didn't want you. I'll save the class a long, boring story on your family dynamic. That would take far too much time, and honestly, I'm ready to usher all of you out of here." Yaka smiled and looked at a still fuming Megan. "Especially some of you."

Jeremy Krenz rose his hand. Mrs. Yaka didn't call on him right away; she merely continued to stare at Megan for a view seconds before finally calling Jeremy's name.

"Just so we're clear," he said. "The winner gets to go home as if nothing ever happened?"

"Not necessarily," Yaka told him. "The winner will be an instant celebrity. Everyone will know them. Not to mention the prize money and sponsor deals the winner will receive upon victory. But really, there is no consequence to killing the people you have grown up with, so knock yourself out!" Her tone was encouraging…a bit too encouraging for Leslie's taste.

Leslie wanted to just stand up and say "There is no way I'm playing this 'game.'" But her legs and her mouth weren't working, and her mind seemed to be at a slow crawl, trying to get everything to sink in.

Luckily, someone in the room managed to let their feelings out into the open so Leslie wouldn't have to. The person in question pounded their desk and stood up in a huff.

"First of all," Megan Zorn said coldly, directing herself to Yaka, seemingly oblivious to the guns all trained on her, "our lives are no playthings! We aren't just players in some grand communist inspired Japanese horror show of a game! We're living, breathing, human beings, and in my view, human beings should not kill one another for sport! Anyone who likes that sort of thing is one sick, twisted, sadistic fuck! I refuse to kill any of my friends, I refuse to believe any of this could happen in America, and I refuse to believe that anyone here can buy into this stupid, barbaric death lottery! No one can make me raise a hand against anyone in this room, except for this sadist Japanese teacher that suddenly developed the personality of a wet cat who has been doing nothing but making me what to kick her ass this entire briefing!" She started to cry. "None of this should have happened! I was supposed to become a marathon runner, get married, have children…be happy! But now it's all being taken away from me just because some people want to see teenagers shoot each other's brains out!? I will NOT take part in this! I won't allow myself to!"

She remained standing, looking Mrs. Yaka straight in the face. Samson tried to get his girlfriend to sit back down, but she slapped at his hand. The atmosphere was tense as the two stared each other down. Mrs. Yaka glanced at the clock, grinned from ear to ear, and began to laugh sinisterly.

"Miss Zorn, even if you didn't already have two and a half strikes, I would have done this anyway."

With that, Mrs. Yaka quickly pulled out her gun. Before Megan could do anything to react, the teacher fired three quick shots directly at her.

Samson yelled "NO!" as the bullets pounded into Megan's chest and head. Blood sprayed those around her as she fell to the floor, dead before hitting the ground. Many began to scream, the loudest of which being Samson Reeves and Ruby Chatham, the girl with the frizzy red hair. The two of them were the ones most drenched with Megan's freshly shed blood.

Samson knelt down to be closer to his obviously dead girlfriend, crying openly like Takashi had been just minutes ago. "No…no no no no NO!" he yelled. As Samson tried futilely to revive his lover, Mrs. Yaka fired her gun into the air once more for silence. She walked over to the still sobbing Samson, and put her handgun to his head.

"She wanted nothing to do with the game, and she was making me mad," Mrs. Yaka said simply. "I merely helped her out faster. I don't want to kill you, Mr. Reeves, since you haven't been too much of a bother, but I will if you don't get back in your seat."

"YOU MURDERER!" he yelled at her. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO HER?!"  
"I think I made myself clear," Mrs. Yaka said coldly. "You have five seconds. One…two…"

Samson continued screaming at her, but he still allowed himself to be led back to his seat by his friend, yearbook photographer Jaymee Derrer, who despite also being stricken by Megan's death, was smart enough to both not say anything and cover Samson's mouth with her hand. Samson cried silently as he sat back down.

"Thank you, Miss Derrer," Mrs. Yaka said. She looked at the time. "Right on schedule! It's officially midnight! Let's get you combatants out of here!" She snapped at a couple of the soldiers, who exited the classroom. They returned a few seconds later with a cart carrying forty-two duffel bags.

"All of you know what to do, now. There is no escape. Kill or be killed. Good luck, and remember: America is watching you!" She made a quick check to her clipboard before calling out "Lucky Boy #1, Bruce Bell!"

Bruce stood up, shaking from head to toe. Leslie noted that the short, quiet kid had peed his pants. He walked to the door, getting a duffel thrown at him by one of the soldiers. Then he ran for it, exiting the classroom.

Mrs. Yaka continued to call out names one by one. Jalen Britton (Boy #2) took his pack roughly, stomping out of the classroom with his normal glare. Ruby Chatham (Girl #5) seemed like a zombie towards the door, dragging her pack on her way out. Ji Chon (Girl #6) was crying silently, but still flashed a peace sign and a small smile at the class.

"Everyone's favorite drummer, Boy #8, Jacob Jones!"

Leslie's heart skipped a beat. Hearing Jacob's name let her mind go faster. She looked at her only friend in the room as he walked up calmly to the soldiers and took his pack. He was about to leave the classroom when he turned around, looking at Leslie.

"B2, Leslie," he smiled at her with his warm, yet businesslike tone. "B2." He then looked at Mrs. Yaka, spat on the ground, and yelled "THUNDER EMPIRE FOREVER, BABY!" Without another word, he exited.

"Bravo, Mr. Jones," Mrs. Yaka said. As if nothing had happened, she called out the next name: "Girl #8, Jaymee Derrer!"

Leslie's attention left the name calling as she took note of what Jacob had said. Obviously he wanted to meet at B2, and he had specifically wanted her there. Leslie knew that Jacob had some sort of plan to get out of this. She knew Jacob well enough to know when he knew what he was doing and when he wasn't. This inspired her more than anything else to not play this stupid game.

Jeremy Krenz (Boy #10) looked back at his various friends with a frown, gave a wave, took his pack, and went on his way. Alex Lough (Boy #11) yelled "Fuck yeah!" when his name was called, ran up to the soldiers, took his pack, and ran out the door, a grin on his face. Juliet Harmon (Girl #13) was crying as she took her own pack. She looked like she wanted to say something, at least Leslie thought so, but she was prodded outside by one of the soldiers.

Then, finally, after what seemed like an eternity: "I think there's been some mistake. It says Leslie Haupt is Girl #14. I could have sworn he, or I guess _she_, had testicles."

Leslie felt fury instead of embarrassment this time due to the second cut she had received. She easily stood up and walked over to the soldiers. They were much taller closer up than she had expected, and looked much more imposing, especially with their guns pointing at her. But she found she wasn't as afraid of them as she was of what was coming.

This thought allowed her to become somewhat brave. She swung her pack around to her back, flipped Mrs. Yaka the bird, and said bravely "Thunder Empire!" She turned and left the classroom, finding herself in a corridor lined with more soldiers, who were pointing the way to the end of the corridor. It was pitch black outside when Leslie finally left, and Leslie felt comfortable.

She was invisible, after all. No one noticed her in real life…she didn't intend to be noticed on this island of certain death.

* * *

Paul Warren (Boy #21) was uncomfortable waiting for his name to be called. He couldn't believe this was actually happening to him, but he thought maybe he would be able to accept it better once he left and found Jeremy and Ryan, who had left right after Leslie Haupt, who Paul didn't even realize existed until now.

He also couldn't stop thinking about Juliet. Paul needed to find her, too. Now that they were both doomed, he had to let her know that he still loved her. He couldn't bear dying without letting her know that first. He just hoped that no one would get any ideas to kill anyone before then, though.

Paul didn't want to end up like Samson, who had to be assisted out of the room. He couldn't believe that Mrs. Yaka…his own Japanese teacher…actually shot Megan. Samson couldn't do anything about it. He tried to imagine Samson's great emotional distress, but found that it was too hard to even attempt to. Paul had never lost someone that close to him, especially not in such a manner.

Before Paul knew it, it was just himself and Holly Smith (Girl #20) still in the classroom, along with Megan's corpse, the soldiers, and Mrs. Yaka.

"Science genius Girl #20, Holly Smith!"

Holly turned towards Paul. "Don't give up."

"Thanks," he said to her. "Be careful."

"I will," she told him, standing up and walking to her almost certain death calmly. She took one of the few remaining packs, and exited, waving at Paul.

Paul thought it was nice of Holly to leave with words of encouragement. But then again, on top of being a genius, she was one of the nicest people that Paul had ever met.

Now Paul was alone.

"Well, I guess you're last, Boy #21, Paul Warren!" Mrs. Yaka said happily. "Obviously, Girl #21 won't be going anywhere."

Paul stood up, walking towards the door. He looked back at Megan's bloody body. Her face was frozen in shock, never knowing what hit her. Paul knew he would have nightmares about it for the rest of his life.

Paul immediately realized that probably wouldn't be very long. Damn it.

He took one of the two remaining packs from the soldiers, and was about to leave before he looked at Mrs. Yaka, who was genuinely smiling.

"You changed," he bravely told her. "Why?"

"That story is for another time, Mr. Warren," she told him. "Try not to get shot too fast out there. You were one of my best students…I would hate to see that go to waste right away."

Paul didn't know whether to yell at her for the pain she was putting everyone through or to thank her for the complement. In the end, he decided to do neither, and just walked out the door, down the long corridor, and outside into the dark.

Paul knew what he had to do. He needed to find Jeremy, Ryan, and Juliet before someone else did. If that was how he would be forced to end his life, he would have to accept it.

The only problem was that even though the game had started, he _still_ didn't believe it.

* * *

**Students Eliminated**

**Zorn, Megan (Girl #21)**

**41 Students Remain**

* * *

_(A/N: This chapter took longer than it should have, but I'm still pleased with it. As always...REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED!! I always love reading reviews. It helps me to know if I'm sucking as a writer or if I'm doing well. Feedback is always nice, you know. Take a look at the poll on my profile to vote for who your favorite is so far! Yes, I'm aware that I've only really fleshed out three characters so far, but don't worry, every character will get his or her time with a flashback or something eventually! Just stayed tuned! Oh...and REVIEW! :D)_


	4. Hour 1: Queen of the Night

**Disclaimer:** I'm afraid I don't own Battle Royale, but if Koushun Takami is reading this, I hope he'll consider giving me at least partial ownage. :D

**A.N.-** Okay, I've probably lost so many readers since it took me forever to update...but come on, my life has been busy! The only reason I had the chance to write this first hour up was because it's finally Spring Break where I live, so I had plenty of time to sit down at a computer. Besides, now that a lot of my major time consumers are finished (I'm looking at _you_, school musical!) I should have a little more time to devote to writing this. I haven't forgotten about it, I'm not dead, and I hope you'll still enjoy this chapter even if it's majorly late. xD And I would just like to say that reading everyone else's original BR-fics has kind of effected my writing style, so some of you may recognize the format I've written this in. So please don't sue for plagerism! :)

**WARNING:** This chapter has a LOT of cursing near the end, so if it offends you, sorry. .

* * *

Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution

Chapter 3: Hour 1- Queen of the Night

_"Are you really sure we should be doing this?" asked the one in the backseat._

_"Would you _stop_ with the complaining?" Alana Cortez, seated shotgun next to the driver, her older _Hermano _Eberardo, turned to face the bigmouthed girl who voiced her descent. Alana didn't care who the younger girl was; all that mattered was that she wanted to go to this party and Eberardo knew her somehow. That made the girl at least trustworthy enough to not blab about what would go down in the next few hours. Still, Alana didn't like nervous people, especially this nervous little seventh grader who was probably way in over her head._

_"No," said the middle schooler. "I won't stop complaining until you tell me we won't be caught."_

_Alana rolled her eyes and looked to her high school dropout of a brother. "I thought you told me this bitch was cool."_

_"She's good for it," he replied. "She had the cash up front. Even paid extra for this ride."_

_"She's getting on my nerves, _Hermano._ There's no way she paid you enough to be taken there personally unless she's some rich kid."_

_"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" the girl said. "I want some answers, now!"_

_"Shut the fuck up!" Alana yelled back before turning back to her brother. "_Is_ she rich?"_

_"Better believe it," Eberardo said. "She's some privileged kid up from the Tuscany hood."_

_Alana blinked. The net worth of any one family in that place was about twenty times as much as Alana's family, who could barely afford the small apartment they lived in without her _tio's _monthly money wiring and Eberardo's drug dealings. She hoped that he had enough sense to really squeeze this upper class black sheep's pocketbook just for this ride. Then again, Eberardo wasn't one to really think with his brain. If Miss Tuscany in the back was smart (which Alana seriously doubted, considering what she was getting herself into) she would have given Eberardo a hand job or something to score the ride for free._

_"Can I please get some sort of answer back here?" Tuscany spoke up._

_"If you stop talking afterwards, I'll tell you whatever the crap you want," Alana said irritably. If the bitch really _did _give her brother some sort of sexual favor, the younger Cortez needed to stay on her good side. The last thing the family needed was some rich family suing them for statutory rape._

_"This place that we're going to," Tuscany started. "The police won't show up, right?"_

_"No one has ever called the cops for a party at Carlos' before," Alana said condescendingly. "Unless a body gets knocked nearby, I doubt anyone ever will."_

_"But what if someone does tonight?" the seventh grader asked nervously. "If my parents ever find out about this-"_

_"'Oh no!'" Alana mimicked the girl's high voice. "'Mommy and Daddy will take away five bucks from my ten thousand dollar allowance!' Whatever, Tuscany. Carlos is smart enough to make people leave by a certain time and to make sure no one smuggles in any guns. Nothing major has ever happened at his place, and he's hosted, what, like fifty of these now?"_

_"Not even close," Eberardo corrected her. "Probably more like eighty something."_

_Tuscany moved on to her next issue. "All the stuff I paid for will be at this party, right?"_

_"Probably," Eberardo said. "Carlos always has the good stuff." _

_"Just don't get too wasted," Alana gave her some advice she hoped the girl wouldn't take to heart. "Just because it's Friday night doesn't mean you should go all out."_

_Tuscany didn't respond, so Alana turned back to her brother. "Does Carlos know that Silver Spoon over there is coming?"_

_"Of course he does," he reassured her. "Why?"_

_"Did you tell her to-?"_

_"What, are you _mi madre_ now? _Yes_, I told her everything that she needs to know. Chill out, _Hermanita. _We're going to Carlos'. It'll be a fun Friday night."_

_He was right, of course. Carlos usually did throw the best parties, usually had the best booze, and usually had the best eye candy. With any luck, Julio would be there again, and barring any confrontation between him and Eberardo, Alana would be having a fun night indeed…_

* * *

Alana Cortez (Girl #7) usually wasn't squeamish about anything. Growing up in poverty, she was more than used to seeing stuff go down that any other person would have nightmares about. But the whole idea about this game, this…what did that Yaka woman call it?…"Glorious Revolution"…it really sickened her. Government sanctioned murder? How far had the country fallen?

Still, Alana had seen death before. The only difference between the streets where she grew up and this game was that right now she was in a forest instead of somewhere more urban. And if she could survive those streets, she could definitely survive this forest.

Alana had wasted no time in running as far away from the school as she could, stopping only when she could no longer gather breath. She was thankful that she left the school earlier than most of her classmates, and that no one had tried trapping her somehow. Alana hadn't heard of the game until today, but now that the rules were clear, she knew that there would be at least a few with the balls to begin dishing out death right away. Luis Valenzula (Boy #20) and his group immediately came to mind, but she knew that the group would do nothing without Luis to tell them what to do, so she would be reasonably safe for the time being.

Now that Alana felt secure, however, she realized that she had no idea where she had run off to. That meant she had to open the bag she was given as she walked out of that damnable classroom for the map. Some water wouldn't kill her either. She realized that she had packed a flask of hard liquor in her own belongings (that she, like the rest of her classmates, mercifully got to keep…the only things confiscated were cell phones), but alcohol wouldn't really help her right now. Not in her paranoid state.

The duffel bag held all the things that Yaka said there would be. The map was there, along with a few bottles of water, some stale bread, paper and pencils, and a list of her competitors. All of this was well and good, but Alana was most interested in her assigned weapon. If it truly _was_ dog eat dog like that teacher said, then she would need something good.

"Jackpot!" she whispered to herself as she pulled out her weapon. The Walther P99 she now held in her hands made her feel slightly more at home. Eberardo's own 9mm was of the same make, and he had even let her shoot it a couple times when she was younger. She felt thankful that the powers that be had given her a weapon she knew she could use to its full potential. She checked the magazine, and satisfied it was loaded, she slid it back in with a satisfying _click_.

She smiled, opening one of her water bottles and taking a quick sip before putting it back. All that she had to do now was look over the map and find her pos-

_Rustle, rustle, rustle…_

Alana's face fell. It was a calm night, and she hadn't heard any animals during her run to wherever the fuck she was. No way that was the wind.

She stood back up, raising the Walther with her heart pounding in her chest. She looked all around her, hoping to find some evidence of where the sound had come from. She considered calling out to whoever it was, but knew it would get the attention of someone who may be threatening. Years of street smarts screamed at her to stay quiet, as no one could be trusted to do right by her except her family.

_Dog eat dog, Alana. No telling what this horse shit will do._

_Rustle, rustle, rustle…_it was louder that time! _Damn it, not this fast!_ To her fortune, Alana saw some of the leaves around her move. Reflexes kicked in.

"Fuck off!" she yelled out, firing the P99 at the bush. To her pleasure, she heard a yelp of pain from the plant. A male, human yelp of pain.

"Whoever you are," she yelled at the victim. "Stay in that bush if you want to keep whatever I didn't just shoot off!" She backed away towards her stuff and grabbed all of it, still pointing her gun in the direction of her would be assailant. She was hearing groans now as the rustling continued.

"I mean it!" Alana said forcefully, although she didn't fire again. Instead, she ran off in the opposite direction, hoping that whoever she just shot at wouldn't be following her. She continued to run until, once again, she was out of breath, which took longer than she expected it take. Luckily, she hadn't run into anyone, and whoever she attacked either hadn't caught up, lost her trail, or (Alana thought with a start) dead.

_No more staying in one spot. That'll make me an easy target. If I'm going to fight anyone, I'm picking when it happens._

The reality began to set in with that thought. _This really is life and death, isn't it? _Hoping to calm herself down, Alana dug back into her belongings and found her iPod. Music usually helped her chill out a little less than booze, but Alana knew that knocking back anything strong right now would mess up any chances she had at survival.

She packed up her stuff quickly after taking out her iPod, not even bothering to take out the map, figuring wherever she was didn't matter as long as it wasn't by the school, which she doubted.

_I've been through too much to die here on this island. If anyone wants to take me down, I'll sure as hell give them a fight, and if anyone is stupid enough to stand in my way…I'll be smart enough to shoot before they do._

Her iPod was automatically on shuffle, and the first song that came through the earbuds was exactly the song that Alana felt best described her.

_Whitney must have written this for me._ As Alana Cortez (Girl #7) now calmly continued on her trek through the forest, anyone listening close enough could hear these words faintly:

"_You've got a problem with the way that I am?_

_They say I'm trouble and I don't give a damn._

_But when I'm bad I know I'm better_

_I just want to get loose, and turn it up for you._

_I've got the stuff that you want_

_I've got the thing that you need_

_I've got more than enough_

_To make you drop to your knees_

_Cause I'm the queen of the night_

_The queen of the night…"_

* * *

Elias McAfee (Boy #13) wasn't going to threaten that girl at all, whoever she was. Elias was bad with names and even worse with speaking to others. But something about the short, mocha skinned runner fascinated him when he was walking aimlessly in the night. There was something about her that seemed to emanate poise and grace. It reminded him of the _geisha_ he had read about before. He couldn't help by watch her and follow her afterward. He wasn't going to say anything to her…he just wanted to be an audience.

Unfortunately, he hadn't expected the girl to freak out and pull her gun out. A split second after realizing she didn't want any type of person around her, a blinding pain shot through his arm. He realized she had probably shot him, but he knew from what little he knew about other people that he should at least apologize for making someone mad. But when he tried to show himself, she shot at him again. The shot merely grazed his cheek that time, but it still hurt enough to keep him far, far away from whoever this was as she ran off once more into the night as gracefully as she was before.

Elias was confused. Why would anyone want to hurt him? He was quiet and respectful and didn't try and make anyone mad. He didn't know what he had done wrong.

At least he learned his lesson because of the great pain in his right arm. Elias McAfee (Boy #13) left the area in the opposite direction of the girl, not wanting to be around someone who may hurt him again, no matter how graceful they were. He hoped he could find someone else to watch soon…he didn't like being alone, even if he didn't know what to say to anyone in his company.

* * *

It took all of Ryan Power's (Boy #15) willpower to stay clam and collected as he waited in the bushes nearby the school. He knew that this was life or death, just like in many of the various video games he had played and books he read, and that this was real. Even with his assigned weapon, a Hi-Point 995 Carbine, he wouldn't feel safe until he found somebody, anybody other than him.

Not that Justin Carver (Boy #3) wasn't trustworthy enough to travel with alone. On the contrary, the tall, lanky tech student sitting next to him in the bush had been one of his friends for years. They both enjoyed computers and video gaming, and they both intended to make their passions for both into programming careers after high school. But if it was one thing that Ryan learned in his many years of playing video games, it was this: fighting an enemy alone would get you killed real fast, and an especially skilled enemy could easily take out two people at once. A group of at least three would give an upper hand in defense.

Besides, even if Ryan couldn't find his close friend Jeremy Krenz (Boy #10), he knew for sure that Paul Warren (Boy #21) and their other mutual friend Wil Roach (Boy #17) hadn't left the school yet. As long as neither of them ran for it immediately after their exit, or left in the other direction of the school towards the urban areas, the two could catch them as they came into the forest.

"I can't believe this is happening," Justin whispered for the third time, gripping his own weapon, a switchblade, tightly with both hands. "Why us?"

"Just calm down, man," Ryan whispered back. "And stay sharp. There's no telling who may want to kill us now that this…" Ryan couldn't bring himself to call it a "game." What happened to Megan back in the classroom was like no "game" Ryan had ever played that wasn't on a television screen or computer monitor. "…event has started."

"You're sure we shouldn't just go?" Justin was terrified, Ryan could tell. The break in the taller one's voice was crystal clear. "I mean, you have a good weapon. We could hide out somewhere. According to the map, there's a beach once we get out of this forest. We could find people on the way there."

"I thought of that already," Ryan said. "But we may not find anyone. And there's safety in numbers. We shouldn't go anywhere until we find another person. I'll keep watching the school. You just keep watching our backs."

Justin sighed. "You're probably right," Justin admitted. "You usually are. But I just have a really bad feeling about being this close to the school. I've already seen people ran past who could have easily killed me if they saw me until you got here…"

"It's all in your head," Ryan said calmly. "Don't let paranoia get to you already." Justin had been brave enough to get Ryan's attention as he passed when he exited the school and entered the forest, but apparently he wasn't brave enough to talk to Takashi Fujimoto (Boy #5) or Amelia Ferguson (Girl #10). Not that Ryan could blame Justin for not trying to contact Takashi after that scene he made in the classroom, but Ryan didn't understand what made Amelia Ferguson, who had always seemed harmless enough, so untrustworthy. Ryan was surprised Justin was this close to the school at all, but he didn't ask why. All that mattered as that his friend was scared out of his head, and Ryan couldn't just leave him. Besides, he knew he would need a group, and Justin was a logical choice.

"I can't help it," Justin replied. "I've been in this bush too long. I still think we should leave!"

"Shh!" Ryan hushed his friend. "Someone is coming." It was too dark to really make out who it was now that they left the lighting of the school building, so Ryan wasn't taking any chances until they got a close up look of whoever was making their way towards the pair. For about the thousandth time since he left the school, Ryan wished he had a flashlight.

"Ryan, it's safe!" Justin said louder than Ryan felt he should have. "Wil! Over here!"

The figure, now that he was so close, was none other than their short, blonde haired friend Wil Roach, smiling wider than Ryan had ever seen him smile before.

"Please tell me I'm not freaking hallucinating!" Wil said happily. "Justin…Ryan…is it really you guys?"

"None other," Ryan said, happy that Wil was alright. "What's your weapon?"

"I haven't checked yet," Wil told him in his normal speaking voice. "Let me-"

"Quiet!" Ryan hissed, pulling the newcomer into the bush with him and Justin. "Do you want to get us killed? Whisper!"

Wil checked himself, unzipping his assigned bag as quietly as possible. "What the fetch?" he whispered.

"What is it?" Justin asked, a little calmer now that Wil had shown up.

"Look what those fudge packers gave me!" he whispered in anger, holding up three little pointy things that Ryan could barely make out as darts. "How am I supposed to defend myself with these?"

"Did they come with a board?" Ryan joked, trying to keep the conversation light hearted. "That could be fun later."

Wil seemingly didn't get the joke, and said seriously "No! All they gave me were three tiny little darts! They aren't even that sharp!" He had finally noticed his friend's weapons, he groaned. "Oh sure, you guys get a rifle and a switchblade. I get flipping _darts_? What were they thinking?"

"Must be their idea of fun," Justin said. "But that's not important right now. Are you happy now Ryan? There's three of us now. Can we _please_ get to the beach now and hideout?"

"You're asking me?" Ryan asked, surprised.

"You're the one with the gun," Wil said in a deadpan, jealous tone.

"So what?"

"So you're the only one useful if we get into a fight!" Wil told him.

"Justin has a knife! And you're not useless either!" Ryan informed him.

"You're always team leader in our air soft wars," Justin said, referring to the battles their group had periodically with BB guns. "And we almost always win on your team. You know why? Because you're smarter than most of us, and your intuition is almost always right. If anyone should be telling anyone else what to do, it's you!"

"This is for real!" Ryan argued. He didn't want any mantle of leadership whatsoever, especially in a situation like this. "Those aren't BBs and toy swords out there! There are actually people who will go along with this and start massacring others without remorse. The stakes are way too high for any one of us to be calling shots from a role of leadership!"

"Ryan, you're basically the only one who can help us out right now," Justin told him. "Your advice to stick around and wait for someone else was smarter than my plan of just leaving everyone else! You need to have a plan!"

Ryan bit his lip. By now, he knew, everyone would be out of the school, and no one had come in this direction since Wil, probably opting to travel anywhere else but due south, which Ryan knew was the direction they were going. Which meant staying in this spot was stupid now. Although he felt safer, Ryan wanted a group of at least five people trustworthy enough not to kill others.

From there, Ryan wouldn't know what to do. But if Justin and Wil needed him to figure that out, he would.

"Fine, I'll be the leader if you need me to," Ryan resigned. "But I don't think we should go to the beach. I think more people we can trust would be heading to the urban areas in the north and southwest parts of the island to hide out. We should head to one of them while staying as careful as possible. We don't want to attract anyone who may want to do us harm."

"So which way, captain?" Wil asked.

"Don't call me that," Ryan said. "Let's go to the southwest settlements. I doubt too many people went north."

"All right, let's get moving, then!" Justin said.

Leaving the bush, Ryan Power (Boy #15) Justin Carver (Boy #3) and Wil Roach (Boy #17) stayed as quiet as possible, making their way deeper into the black forest.

* * *

Bruce Bell (Boy #1) knew that he was lucky that he left first. That meant that as soon as he left, he could cry as loud as he wanted to and no one would hear him. And Bruce did a _lot _of crying since he had woken up in that fucking school.

Ever since he was little, Bruce couldn't ever get a grip on his emotions, especially sadness. Being sensitive, according to his mother, was a good thing. It meant that he could get girls to like him easier, and it made him more poetic. Bruce didn't see himself as poetic at all. All he and almost everyone else he had ever known saw him as was a big crybaby. His parents told him he would grow out of it, but he just couldn't. Besides, being a crybaby repulsed girls as opposed to enticed them.

Not that Bruce wanted a girlfriend anyway. He had known from the very beginning that he was gayer than a basket full of beauty products. If puberty had done anything for him, it had confirmed what he had known since childhood: that his wiring was different. The true realization of it probably made him more of a crybaby than he already was. At least his parents had no clue of his real sexuality…

Thinking of his parents just made Bruce cry even more. He was currently resting with his back to a tree in the middle of an open field. It probably wasn't the safest place to be right now, but Bruce honestly didn't care. He was going to die anyway, so what was the point in hiding? He knew he couldn't kill anyone. Not only was he not strong enough to do much more than carry his own belongings, he morally objected to ending any life. Even squashing a bug would guilt Bruce into tears eventually. He would probably become manic if he even came close to killing anyone.

Bruce wished that _he_ was here. His secret, also closeted boyfriend. Although Bruce knew that his lover could be abrasive at times, he knew that he was generally kind, and was one of the only people who could calm Bruce down from anything. Besides, knowing that he had at most 72 hours left to live, he would love spending it all with him. Not to mention how much stronger he was than Bruce. He could protect them both easily and still have time to spare to have a few quick make out sessions before they both would give in to the inevitable.

Thinking of him made Bruce cry even harder. He knew he was near hysterics, but he still didn't care. He had been crying since he left the school. Just when he felt he was starting to calm down in the beginning, it really set in that the game had started, and the realization that he was probably one of the easiest targets came when he opened his assigned bag to find his weapon to be nothing but a spoon. This only made him cry harder. Then when he found a camera on a nearby tree trained on him, he cried even more.

Unfortunately for Bruce, his frantic keening only served to bring about the attention of a group that would soon prove themselves to be just what the marketing team of Glorious Revolution ordered: young, violent antagonists who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty.

"Well, well, well!" Luis Valenzula (Boy #20) said loudly to his group of loyal jocks. "If it isn't this whiny faggot!" He gave a hearty laugh, which was the signal for Alex Lough (Boy #11) and Chuck Luttmer (Boy #12) to laugh with him. As always, the two obliged happily.

Bruce looked up quickly, seeing the group of jocks coming towards him. He recognized all three of them. Luis carried a taser in his left hand, and right behind him followed Alex, a golf club he had placed over his shoulders menacingly. Chuck had his hands in his pockets, obviously not having a good enough weapon to be showing it everywhere. He looked uncomfortable.

Bruce should have ran. They were far enough away from him so that he would have a good enough start to possibly lose them. But he was frozen to the tree. He found he couldn't move even if he had wanted to. He stared into each of their faces, lingering on Chuck's taciturn scowl, and realized something.

_I'm about to die._

The thought at least allowed Bruce to stand, holding his spoon loosely in his hand. He wanted to look threatening, but realized that he probably looked like he felt inside: scared shitless. _I can't just let them do whatever they want to me! He wouldn't like that at all!_

"Would you look at that?" Alex laughed. "He thinks he can take us?"

"What a loser…what is this kid's name, anyway?" Luis asked Chuck. Chuck was silent, merely shrugging. Luis didn't seem to expect an answer, and merely snorted derisively. "I just realized we've been making fun of this pansy for the past year, and I don't even know his name!"

"It doesn't matter, boss," Alex grinned sadistically. "Look at him! He knows he's fucked!"

The group continued to walk closer to the smaller one. Bruce sniffled, and managed to squeak out "Leave me alone!"

"Listen to this!" Luis laughed. "'Leave me alone!' Has this kid's fucking voice changed at all? Chuck, grab this whiny loser."

Before Bruce could turn and run, Chuck was charging at him. Chuck had a good foot on Bruce, not to mention the weight advantage. Bruce knew he was about to get his face beaten in. Bruce threw his spoon at Chuck, hoping to get him to back off, but it went wide. Chuck was unfazed, easily making it to Bruce, pushing the shorter kid back against the tree.

"Sorry," Chuck whispered before he raised his fist high and brought it down swiftly onto Bruce's face with a loud smack. Bruce cried out in pain as the larger boy continued his assault, punching him in the gut as well as beating his face in. Bruce felt nothing but pain was Chuck bashed Bruce's head into the tree trunk, disorienting him as well as imparting a large gash on the back of the smaller student's head. When Chuck was through, he pulled Bruce away from the tree and pushed him to the ground roughly before bringing him back up with his hands held behind his back.

"There we go!" Luis yelled. He found the camera nearby, apparently. "Looks like we're on candid camera!"

"Better believe it!" Alex triumphantly stated as he began his own assault on Bruce with his 3 wood. Bruce couldn't fight back as the club went across his face, knocking out a few teeth as well as breaking his nose. The club then made its way to Bruce's legs, where two harsh blows forced Bruce to the ground in pain.

"America, you watching this?" Luis broadcasted to the camera. "See what happens if you fuck with _my _crew? Man, we'll beat your mother fucking ass to the _ground!_ We're unbeatable! We're invincible! No one will get in our way to the top! So all you haters out there in TV land better take some fucking notes!"

With that, Luis made his own way to the battered and bloodied Bruce Bell, who was again openly sobbing. "Please don't kill me!" he yelled to his assailants. "Just leave me alone!"

"Not an option!" Luis said gleefully, curb stomping Bruce's chest, possibly breaking a couple ribs. "A wise man once said 'Don't taze me, bro!' If you say that, then maybe, just _maybe_ I'll let you slide, you pansy."

Bruce, seeing no other option, obliged the gang leader. "Don't taze me, bro!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that," Luis said. He then proceeded to take his electrical weapon and zap his unfortunate victim, forcing him to scream as loud as possible. Luis laughed manically, zapping him again and again as Alex mugged the camera, proclaiming his group's superiority. Chuck moodily watched the proceedings in the background, shaking his head.

Eventually, Luis got tired of tazing the crybaby. "Alex! Get your club over here man!" Alex grinned and began to walk back over to his group.

"Luis," Chuck said quietly. "Come on, the kid is fucked over. Let's just leave him here for someone else to take out."

"Oh? You're talking now?" Luis said angrily. "Well, sorry, but I did NOT SAY YOU COULD SPEAK!"

"Luis-"

"Shut up!" he said. "Do you realize how famous we'll be after this? We'll all be fucking rock stars! This pansy will be the first of many!"

"He's a waste of time," Chuck said rationally. "There are bigger fish to fry!"

Bruce, while still in huge amounts of pain, wanted to help Chuck's argument, but found he couldn't stop crying enough to speak. All he could do was hope that Luis listened to his lieutenant.

"Fuck that, the kid is garbage that needs to be taken out!"

"That's what you said about Sierra!" Chuck reminded him.

"That whore would only slow us down!" Luis yelled. "It was right to leave her at the damn school. So if you're pissed about that, deal with it, or else you'll be joining this fag on the ground!"

Chuck backed down immediately when Luis said that. "Okay, boss, I scan. Forget I said anything."

_No! Luis, listen to him! Don't kill me! NO!_

Luis looked to Alex and gave him a single order: "Finish him off."

"With pleasure!" Alex kicked Bruce in the stomach, turning the boy over to see his death coming.

_At least…at least I got to see him…one last time._ Bruce Bell, with his remaining good eye, watched Chuck Luttmer, his lover and best friend, who was looking away from him with his arms crossed. Bruce knew that if Luis and Alex weren't here, the two could have been very happy for their last 72 hours.

But Chuck had to keep his front alive. Bruce understood the logic, even if he wished it wasn't true.

Just watching Chuck in his final moments allowed Bruce to end his sobbed. Even at the hour of his death, Chuck could calm him down from anything, even if Chuck was one of the ones dishing the doom out.

Bruce Bell's (Boy #1) last sight was of the golf club screaming into his face over and over again until his skull, gratefully, caved in.

* * *

**Students Eliminated**

**Bell, Bruce (Boy #1)**

**40 Students Remaining**

* * *

_(A.N.- There you go, the first non-teacher death! I don't know if you guys enjoyed it, but I REALLY hate how it turned out...I feel like it's kind of rushed, and that there's not enough detail. And I kind of think that the revelation came off as somewhat tacked on, but I didn't know where else to add it that wouldn't ruin the surprise. Tell me what you guys think if you've still stuck around! Again, sorry for the major delay, but hey, you can't rush these things! Reviews, as always, are very welcome!)_


	5. Hour 2: Smile Like You Mean It

**Disclaimer: **Why would I want to own Battle Royale, anyway? I would probably wreck the entire series. xD

**A/N:** Guess who had time to finish two chapters in the same week? Yours truly. This is the longest chapter I've written so far, including Welcome to the Neighborhood, and this took me FOREVER to be pleased with. I had to rewrite nearly every single part at least once, if not three or four times, until I was pleased with the result. I hope it shows in the quality. I hope this makes up for me taking a month to update again, lol. Enjoy and review!

* * *

Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution

Chapter 4: Hour 2- Smile Like You Mean It

_Ji Chon felt more tired than she thought she would be, and she knew that with the heavy bags under her eyes and her hair less groomed than usual she probably also looked it. She figured the only reason her friend Lauren Ortiz hadn't mentioned her rugged appearance was only out of respect. Ji wanted to thank her for not mentioning anything, but that would only acknowledge just how bad she looked, and she knew that admitting anything negative about herself would only translate to weakness. And more than anything, Ji didn't want to appear weak, especially not with what was coming up._

_Ji knew that her appearance was largely her fault, but Ji felt staying awake as long as she had last night had been worth it. As a rule of thumb, Ji normally didn't check out war novels from the library, instead following her favorite romance series with what her mother called an "obsessive zeal." But what Michael Shaara had written was different. __The Killer Angels__ was one of those rare books that Ji didn't have any choice in putting down. The American Civil War always fascinated her, and Shaara brought the war to life despite having written the three-hundred fifty-five page tome nearly one hundred years after the war ended. His words made the war, and especially the Battle of Gettysburg, that much more real to her. She just had to finish it that night after her homework was completed. The fact that she had only gotten about three hours of sleep mattered little when she thought about how great the novel was._

_Ji always read a book before she went to bed every night. It kept her mind clear and allowed her to better assess what she would be doing the next day. She was not only following her hero Winston Churchill's example, but also the reading always kept her sharp. She would need to stay sharp for what was to come._

_She realized grimly that she could barely stay sharp with the amount of sleep she had gotten the night before. At least there was always caffeine to keep the urge of sleep away for just a few more hours. Ji couldn't believe Lauren's generosity when she showed up at school with two thermoses of white mocha. _

_"Thanks for the coffee, Lauren," Ji expressed her thanks to the girl who sat next to her in the Lake Point High's busy hallway. "I really needed it."_

_"Just don't stay up that late again, okay?" Lauren Ortiz said seriously. "That book wasn't going to go anywhere, you know. How are you going to stay awake first period?"_

_The girls had the same first period class together, which happened to be Mrs. DePasquale's honors English class. English usually wasn't that boring since Mrs. DePas (as everyone called her) generally kept the energy up throughout the long, ninety minute lesson. Unfortunately, she had to get herself pregnant, so she had a doctor's appointment that morning. This meant that the class had to be taken over by a substitute who usually would have the class watch a movie that had nothing to do with the unit the class was learning about along with a movie review sheet to be turned in afterwards. This wouldn't be a bad thing if the movie's were at least somewhat entertaining, but Mrs. DePas seemed to only like old black and white war films, which Ji usually couldn't stand to watch._

_"The coffee should keep me awake until second hour," Ji said, trying to sound peppy but knowing she sounded like a zombie. "Then I can fall asleep during pre-calc. Everyone does in there, anyway."_

_"If you're sure, Ji…" Lauren said. "But I'll try and keep you awake during first if you fall asleep or something. I need you awake in there…who else am I going to talk to? Spencer Jordan?"_

_Ji had to laugh at that. Spencer Jordan liked to think he was cool, but the fat kid was really the biggest nerd that the two of they knew and frequently made fun of…which was saying something, as Ji knew a _lot _of nerds._

_"I'm sure anything beats whatever crappy movie we'll have to watch." Ji sighed, wishing she had at least saved the ending of her book for today so she would have something to do first period, but then she wouldn't have gotten any sleep whatsoever. The two girls sat in silence for a while, just watching everyone who were passing them in the crowded hallway._

_"This place is way too overcrowded," Lauren said. "I don't know how we'll get up when the bell rings."_

_"It's a mess, too," Ji observed, looking at the littered ground. "Class hasn't even really started yet, and this hall seemed like a paper bomb came down on it."_

_"I know, right?" Lauren agreed. "And have you noticed how many people skip class, too?"_

_"This hall will probably be crowded even after class begins!" Ji said furiously. "We're here for a reason, you know!" Ji, in fact, knew that Lauren was prone to hyperbole, and that it was usually only about three seniors who ever regularly skipped class, but Lauren was basically Ji's only real friend, so she usually went along with whatever Lauren chose to hyperbolize each morning._

_"Man, our school needs help," Lauren said firmly. "I bet anyone who comes up here from Emerson High laughs at how bad this place looks! Something needs to be done."_

_Ji knew that the opportunity had come to tell Lauren what she was planning. Ji had sat on the information for a while, not knowing how her friend would react, but now Ji hoped she would get some sort of blessing. "You're right, and I'm going to be the one to finish it."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Class elections are in two weeks," Ji explained. "I'm thinking of running for Class President."_

_Lauren opened her mouth, not expecting that. "Are you serious?"_

_"Completely, I already got all the information I needed from the advisor," Ji said seriously. "All I need are one hundred signatures from the student body, and I'll be on the ballot and allowed to campaign."_

_"Ji, no one even knows who you are!" Lauren told her bluntly. Ji already knew this. She had only transferred to Lake Point a few months ago, and since she was usually quiet and always reading, the only friend Ji had bothered to make was Lauren. Still, she didn't like the way her only friend said she was so unknown._

_"Everyone signs these things!" Ji said defensively. "It doesn't matter they don't know who I am. If anything, that'll just make them sign it faster so I can stop bugging them about it. Not to mention that they won't see me as competition for Julia Zabransky." _

_"Then you know you're going to lose!" Lauren said firmly. "Are you sure that she's running?" _

_Ji knew for a fact that Julia was running, and also knew for a fact that everyone liked and admired her. Everyone saw Julia as a sweet, down to earth, modest everygirl. That meant trouble for anyone else running, but Ji had been developing a campaign strategy that would be foolproof…even if it wasn't one of the nicer things she would be doing in her life, Ji knew it would be for the greater good. No one would help this school more than she would, so she had to win by any means necessary._

_"Julia is going to lose because I'm going to make her lose," Ji said confidently. _

_"Oh yeah?" Lauren cocked an eyebrow at her friend. "How exactly will you do that?"_

_"Julia isn't friends with the most influential voters."_

_"Who are those supposed to be, then?"_

_As if on cue, Michelle Bolton shrieked loudly along with the two girls who were following her, who were none other than Jessica Seibold and Victoria Burke. The three popular girls made their way down the crowded hall almost untouched by all the rest. Then again, having a girl as big as Michelle in front cleared a path automatically for anyone._

_Ji knew that Lauren was watching the group pass, and when Lauren looked back at the Asian future candidate for student body, she received a cryptic wink._

* * *

Even though at first Ji Chon (Girl #6) couldn't help but laugh at the irony despite the situation, she found she really enjoyed the weapon the soldiers had given her. _Oh, sure. Give the Chinese girl Sun Tzu's __The Art of War__. Very funny._ It's not that Ji liked the "weapon" for whatever edge it would give her in this concoction of a game. She merely thought it was a good read. It wasn't a war novel, not really. It was just _war_. War generalized, thought out philosophically, and written on paper. It was…interesting, to say the least. At least it was translated into English so Ji wouldn't have a book full of Chinese characters only her father could read.

At least she had light to read it with now. The only thing that herself and Michelle Bolton (Girl #1) agreed on since the game had started was that they needed to find a shelter immediately, so the two of them, with Jessica Seibold (Girl #19) and Victoria Burke (Girl #3) in tow, had spent the last hour looking for some sort of roof to go over their heads. The group headed down to the southwestern suburban area, luckily running into no one other than a few small animals, and had just barely entered the third house they came across. It was at Ji's insistence. Out of all the girls in her group, she was the only one who had read about Battle Royale before, so she was the only one being cautious. The last thing Ji wanted to do was walk into an ambush, and she figured that anyone with a brain would want to enter the first house they saw…only to get brutally massacred by someone who was there first who just happened to have a handsaw.

Ji shuddered at the thought. Now that she had thought about something grisly like that, she just couldn't unsee it. _I should stop reading this book. I'll go insane._

All four girls were gathered around the same table in the former occupant's kitchen. The only light they dared to turn on was that of the microwave, also at Ji's insistence. It had been silent since Michelle's last outburst, but Ji knew that it would happen again. Ji prided herself on being able to read people, and she knew that the overweight cheerleader groupie wasn't happy with how Ji had just automatically assumed a leadership role. The bickering would begin again soon, Ji could feel it. Whenever Michelle didn't get her way she would just whine and complain about it until her way was put to work.

Still, Ji wished she didn't have to bicker with her at all. In fact, Ji wished she could just leave all three of them, but she knew if she did she would be an easy target. _If I had a good weapon, I would be out in the field alone, trying to find anyone other than these bitches._ Ji wished more and more every day that she hadn't befriended these whores at all and just spent her time with Lauren Ortiz (Girl #18), forgetting any ambitions she had for student council and just sticking with her reputation for being unknown.

Now ever since that campaign, her reputation far and wide was that of "bitch." Ji hated it now more than ever, especially since she knew her days were numbered. _Hell, my hours are numbered. Minutes even, with this crew._

"We need to go back out there!" Michelle started again, banging her fist on the table, causing Jessica to jump and Ji to bring her inner monologue to a screeching halt. "Sitting here doing nothing is just making us more fucking scared than we should be! We need to find more people and be more protected!"

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times," Ji said condescendingly, looking up from The Art of War. "It's dark outside, and we're in an urban area. A lot of people are going to come here just like we did, if they're smart. And not all of them are going to be trustworthy. We should stay here until we can actually see who's coming, then we can gather more people."

"But we're sitting ducks right now!" Michelle argued. "We can barely defend ourselves! We need more people with good weapons so we don't fucking die in our sleep."

Ji rolled her eyes. They had gone over this already, too. "Look in your hand, Michelle. What are you holding?"

"Don't talk down to me, asshat," Michelle angrily snapped. "I know it's a butcher knife."

"Okay," Ji said, feeling like she was talking to a nine year old. "Now what does Jessica have?"

Jessica, the blonde haired blue eyed bombshell that she was, must have blown one of the GR people to get a Colt Python handgun. Ji knew it probably wasn't out of the girl's power, being the slut that she was. Even though Ji knew that Jessica wouldn't use it, it was at least good to have as a bluff.

_If I need it…_

"Okay, so Jess has a gun," Michelle said. "But all you have is that stupid book and Victoria over there got fucking eye mace!"

"Saying 'fuck' all the time isn't helping," Ji said calmly. "Mace is good in a pinch, and this book isn't all that bad."

"It's useless, admit it," Michelle rolled her eyes.

"I won't!" Ji adamantly spoke once more. "This could come in handy eventually! In Japan, the last winner's life was saved by their starting weapon: Homer's Odyssey. If a book can help there-"

"How do you even know this stuff, Ji?" Jessica asked quietly. Ji was startled…it was the first time that Jessica had spoken since the game started, which was very unlike her. Usually she was the one who talked the most, and most of the time it wasn't conversation that made Ji want to rip her ears off. It made Ji respect the girl a little more.

"Unlike _some people_," Ji pointed at Michelle for emphasis. "I read the newspaper. You wouldn't believe how big of a deal this game is in Asia. There's usually at least one press release about it every year."

"Are you saying I'm not educated?" Michelle snapped, fire in her eyes. "If I remember correctly, I'm in the same honors classes as you!"

"Does it matter?" Victoria said quietly from her side of the table. She was looking down at her mace, crying silently. "We're never going to be able to go to school again. We're boned. You guys know that."

"We are _not_ boned!" Ji said. "We can make it out of this! It's been done before in Asia, I think. Nothing is impossible-"

"Cut the class president routine, it's getting old," Michelle bitterly stated. "And I still don't think we should stay here!"

"For the last time," Ji stressed. "We can't go outside! We'll get killed if we go out into the dark again. We were lucky to get here when we did. We can leave this place when the sun is up, but until then I think we should get some sleep. I have a feeling we'll need to be awake for most of this thing."

"No, fuck that!" Michelle said, standing up now, pointing her knife at the Asian. "We need to leave this house! I can't be brave unless I know we have more than this knife and a gun to protect us!"

"All you want to do is find someone to soak up bullets for you!" Ji stood as well. _I'm not taking this fatass' shit anymore. _"You preach about how you want to stay safe, but all you want are more human shields just so you don't have to be one anymore!"

"That's not true!"

"Oh? I'm wrong, am I? Don't tell me after all the time as the fat hanger on who we hid behind in the halls to get through the crowds, you still want to be a shield for everyone?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't try and tell me you haven't noticed that we all walk behind you every day at school!" Ji yelled at her. "You shave two minutes off our transition time just because of how wide you are!"

"Don't call me fat, you fucking chink!"

"I _know _you didn't just call me that!" Ji was livid. What was this, the forties? _No, worse. It's high school._

"I did!" Michelle yelled. "So what? I can call you whatever the fuck I like! It's a free country!"

"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP!" came a yell.

Ji and Michelle both stopped glaring at each other to gape in surprise at Victoria Burke, who had grabbed Jessica's pistol from off the table and looked terrified. Jessica, apparently, did nothing to stop her.

"You two have been arguing the whole time since this whole damn game started!" Victoria screamed. "Which way to go, what to do next, how we'll survive! Everything! And even before this shit started, you two have always been arguing over stupid crap like how to decorate for the next dance or what pep events will happen at our next game or if so and so is gay or not! I'M SICK OF HEARING IT! Both of you are just horrible, mean spirited bitches who can't get enough of making others suffer!"

"Victoria-"

"Don't interrupt me, Ji!" Victoria continued screaming, tears falling down her face. "You know you're just as horrible as Michelle!"

"I'm not horri-"

"SHUT UP, MICHELLE! Do you know why I joined the cheer squad? It was because I wanted to have fun and make new friends! I didn't join to make anyone else feel bad about themselves or become some vapid, vain, horrible bitch who makes out with the highest bidder! Screw that!"

"Calm down, Victoria," Ji said, hands in front of her. "We can talk more civil than we were just now. Just put the gun down!"

"No!" Victoria yelled. "Fuck you, Ji! Hell, fuck the two of you for arguing over stupid shit like how to spend our last days! I don't feel safe when I'm with the two of you in the same room!" She sniffled, wiping tears from her face. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I love you like a sister, but I can't stay here with _them!_"

"Victoria…" Jessica was now crying with her. "What are you saying?"

"What's it sound like?" Michelle said coldly. "This bitch is ditching us!"

"Don't call her that!" Ji said in Victoria's defense. "Please don't leave us, Victoria. We need you!"

"For what? An extra vote for your side?" Victoria asked. "And then what afterwards? You're a politician, Ji. What happens when you don't need my vote anymore?"

"Victoria!" Ji raised her voice. "Don't let this game take you over! Why would I hurt any of you girls, especially you?"

"Stop talking!" Victoria said. She took her pack, gun still raised at the three other girls, and began to walk backwards towards the door. "Jessica, the second you get the sense to leave these bitches to whoever wants to take them out, try and find me! Because I can't be here anymore!"

Without another word, Victoria Burke (Girl #3) exited the house, leaving her former friends with shocked faces and open mouths. Jessica put her head on the table and began sobbing freely.

"Damn it!" Michelle cursed. She grabbed her own pack and headed to the door as well. "We can't let her go!"

"Don't be stupid!" Ji called out forcefully. "Do you have any idea how loud we were yelling just now? If anyone is in this neighborhood already, Victoria is probably already dead!"

"We can't just let her leave!" Michelle told the president. "She took our gun with her! That was our only good weapon!"

"I'm not starting this again!" Ji told the overweight girl. "If you want to die, then go ahead, Michelle! But you'll be alone, because obviously Victoria doesn't want either of us around! There won't be anyone to take any shots for you!"

"It's not about me, Ji Chink!" Michelle yelled.

Before Ji could respond, Jessica said "Both of you stop it! Ji is right Michelle…we can't go out there."

Michelle recoiled as if her best friend had just slapped her. "Jess…"

"Just don't go!" Jessica turned to face her friend, her eyes bloodshot. "I can't lose you too!"

Michelle wasn't having it. "You just want to stay on Ji's good side in case she decides to go even more ape shit than usual."

"Michelle!" Jessica cried.

"Save it," Michelle snapped. "I'm outvoted, damn it. Whatever. If you two want to write off Victoria, go ahead. I'm going upstairs to try and get some sleep…it's obvious no matter what I say we won't be able to leave until the sun rises." Without another word, the large girl placed her butcher knife on the table next to her sobbing friend, grabbed her pack and marched upstairs. The only two remaining at the table were Ji and Jessica.

Ji couldn't believe what had just happened. Victoria really was as good natured as they came…Ji knew it was just that Victoria fell under the influence of the stereotype. Ji didn't like to think that she had just written Victoria off as dead, but from what Ji knew of the game and how much noise they had all just made, it was highly probable that the shorter, curly brown haired girl was on the opposite end of a psychopath's katana. _Ugh…damn you, Sun Tzu._

At least she got what she wanted. Even if they lost Victoria, Ji knew that Michelle wouldn't be going anywhere as long as Jessica wanted to stay. The three would stay alive for at least the next few hours…but she didn't like the way she had to achieve it.

_Can't I do the right thing the right way for once in my life instead of having to take the low road all the time?_ Ji sighed, and turned her attention to the sobbing blonde. Ji needed her to cheer up. Like or not, the two were allies in this game, for better or worse, and if Jessica gave in to the weakness of sadness, then all their chances at life would plummet.

"Jessica," Ji said softly. "Are you all right?"

"One of my best friends just left us here to die…how you think I feel?" the cheerleader said dryly.

Ji looked down in reverence. "Listen," she started. "I don't know how you're feeling about me right now, but I know that us staying in here is the right thing. I can get us out of this…I just need time. You can understand that…right?"

Jessica still hadn't raised her face from the table, and was still sobbing. "I know you're right…I just hate that you are."

Ji smiled, having heard the same sentiments from other members of the student council many a time. "Glad to hear it. I know I probably sound stupid for saying this, but try and smile."

"Huh?"

"Smiling," Ji said. "My mother always told me that whenever I felt sad, I should practice smiling. I didn't think it would work when she first said it, but the more I practiced smiling artificially, the less I had to try to genuinely smile…and I have a feeling we're going to need all the humor we can get in this thing."

Jessica raised her head, finally. Her face and eyes were red and puffed up, but at least she wasn't crying as hard as she once was. "How can I ever smile again? We're dead, both of us. What's the point?"

"That's exactly why you need to smile!" Ji said as perkily as she could muster, under the circumstances. "If we only have three days to live, why not make the best of them?"

It was a good thing that Ji was so charismatic. Jessica gave a small laugh and flashed Ji half a smile. _That's better than nothing._

"There we go!" Ji happily said. "Go upstairs and try and get some sleep, and try to keep smiling like you mean it. I can keep watch for now and make sure no one tries to break in."

"Thanks, Ji." Jessica rose from her seat, grabbed her own pack and trudged up the stairs, leaving Ji all alone in the kitchen.

Ji Chon (Girl #6) didn't feel like she was a bad person, but being with this bunch sure made her feel like one. Trying not the think of Victoria Burke's (Girl #3) exit, Michelle Bolton's (Girl #1) hatred, or Jessica Seibold's (Girl #19) weakness, Ji took her own advice and began to smile. As she sat back down in her seat furthest away from the door with the butcher knife to her right, Ji picked up The Art of War once more, hoping to gain whatever insight Sun Tzu had to give on the current predicament.

* * *

_I don't have any fucking clue what I'm doing right now…_

This thought had been at the top of Jaymee Derrer's (Girl #8) mind ever since she had left the school. Normally, she was on top of everything. Back in Idaho during her time on the yearbook staff, she would go almost anywhere to get the perfect picture of school spirit. Maybe she wouldn't go as far as someone like Melissa Hunt (Girl #16), who practically slept with that camera of hers, but she still knew that she got relatively well composed photographs for the year before she ended up quitting. Jaymee even stayed on the honor roll with a 3.6 GPA without having to try very hard. But ever since Megan got shot up by that crazy Japanese teacher, Jaymee knew she was lost.

_Seriously, what the crap am I doing right now?_

She had been wandering around the northern forests since the game had started, her assigned tonfa nightstick held loosely by her side. Jaymee wasn't in any sort of denial about the game's start; she knew she was screwed over. What happened to Megan back in that classroom was no joke…Jaymee still had some of Megan's blood on her clothes. It was a grim reminder that no one was safe, especially her friends.

Jalen Britton (Boy #2) left that classroom long before she did, and Samson Reeves (Boy #16) and left long after she did, so Jaymee knew she had no real hope of finding either of her remaining friends unless she got extremely lucky.

Not that Jaymee was overly worried about Jalen's safety. Jaymee knew Jalen better than anyone, since the two had grown up together as next door neighbors. As rebellious and anarchic as he was, Jalen probably lived on this kind of thing. If anyone could survive for a long period of time in an environment like this, Jalen was at the top of Jaymee's list. The thought of Jalen killing anyone should have scared her more than anything, but she knew that underneath all the black clothes and pieced face, Jalen was a trustworthy person. She had no reason to believe he would kill _her_, at least.

But Samson…he was a different story. He and Megan had been dating ever since seventh grade. Jaymee had never seen two people more devoted to each other than them, including couples like Kirk Darr (Boy #4) and Pamela Drashner (Girl #9). Jaymee saw how Samson lost it right after Megan was massacred. She saw how he yelled at Mrs. Yaka, held the body of his lost love with an intensity she had never seen before…Samson was bound to get himself shot too, if Jaymee didn't do something. Jaymee just couldn't lose another friend within two minutes of the first one. If it wasn't for her, Samson would be dead with Megan right now. Not that it would matter if Samson got himself killed out of grief by some psycho like Luis Valenzula (Boy #20).

Jaymee knew she had to find both of them, fast. Being alone in a dark forest scared her, especially when her only defense was something she wasn't even comfortable holding in the first place. Jaymee hoped she could trace her friends somehow, but all she had to go on was what she figured they may do.

_Samson's going to want to get away from everyone he can after what just happened, and Jalen…well, if Jalen's not going around causing chaos and undermining the government by giving some sort of long, boring soliloquy to a camera, he's probably on a beach somewhere. He's always loved the water._

Jaymee figured the best chance was to go north, since she thought everyone else would go south. And if _she _thought everyone would go south, Jaymee figured it would be a good chance that Jalen and Samson thought that too, so she hoped they went up this direction, too.

Jaymee thought of that as soon as she left the school, but now that she was actually in the northern woods, she had no fucking idea where to go now besides the beach, and she didn't even know for sure that Jalen would be there, or if he was even trustworthy enough to not kill her.

_No. Jalen wouldn't kill _me…_maybe anyone else on this island, especially those soldiers, but not me. But still…should I risk it?_

Jaymee didn't even know if she was going due north…what if she was going northeast or something? What then?

_Damn it, what the hell am I doing?_

Jaymee sighed. "This is so fucked up…"

"_AH-CHOO!"_

Jaymee nearly jumped out of her skin. That sneeze definitely wasn't her.

_"AH-CHOO!"_

Wait…that sneeze sounded way too familiar, even _if _it wasn't Jaymee herself.

"Samson, that better be you, and if it's not, please don't shoot me!" Jaymee yelled out, charging forward. That sneeze came from close by, and Jaymee knew it had to be Samson's…she heard his sneeze a ton of times at all the track meets they went to so they could watch Megan get some sort of new record for the two mile run. Jaymee always figured he was allergic to something, but whenever she asked him about it, he always came up with a smart-ass remark about being allergic to her face.

Jaymee hoped she heard the sneeze correctly, though. If not, she would be walking into what could be a trap, and she knew it.

Luckily, it really _was_ Samson Reeves. He hadn't noticed Jaymee run up to him, despite Jaymee pretty much yelling at him saying it was good to see him.

"You know, a 'Hi' would be nice…" Jaymee said sarcastically. "Samson? You alive?"

The jazz singer didn't answer. He didn't even look up from his seat on the ground, leaning on the trunk of a downed tree. He wasn't dead, Jaymee knew that for sure. Samson was busy intently scanning a small piece of paper.

Seeing no other option, Jaymee sat down next to her friend. "I see you're not dead yet. I'm surprised." Jaymee snorted, teasing her friend. "I thought for sure you would be the first out."

Samson still didn't answer. Instead, he was stroking the paper he held. Now that Jaymee was closer to her friend, she could tell that the paper was a small photograph. It was Megan's yearbook photo, the one where she was wearing that hideous orange blouse with her hair up like it was the fifties or something. Jaymee hated that photo of Megan, and always made fun of her for it whenever she could even if Megan didn't care how she looked in photographs.

"You're no fun," Jaymee laughed artificially. "At least give me something to work with." Still no answer. "Samson…you _are_ okay, right?"

"She's dead," he replied in a monotonous, soft whisper that Jaymee barely heard.

"Who? Megan?" Jaymee asked, trying to point out the obvious in an attempt to get Samson to laugh. "Good thing, too, or else she would be yakking our ears off." The joke fell flat, causing Samson to turn his back to Jaymee. Jaymee, however, was unflustered.

"Oh, come on, dude, I was kidding!" Jaymee said brightly. "Don't try and turn into Jalen on me and turn to stone whenever I try and joke around!" Still no response. "Samson…"

"I couldn't save her," Samson said in the same whisper he used before.

Jaymee knew that Samson would be bad, but not like this. _I need to cheer him up. I can't just leave him here to be some easy kill. _"Samson…there was nothing you could do. Nothing any of us could do."

"I was right there and watched her die," Samson replied. "Right next to her."

"She was being too brave for her own good, man!" Jaymee tried explaining. "The way she was talking back to Yaka was bound to get her killed at some point!"

"Then I should have stopped her." Samson stroked the photo some more. "She would still be here…we could be together again…"

"Snap out of it!" Jaymee said. "Is this doing you any sort of good at all?" When she got no answer, she continued in a softer tone. "Look…Megan was one of my best friends. I knew her since we were both Kindergarteners and shared crayons together every morning. I grew up with her…she was like my sister. When you asked her out, I saw less of her, but we were still great friends, and I became friends with you, too. She was always looking out for others, even if she was way too in the face of all those bullies growing up, and even in her last hours. But Samson…she's dead now. She was murdered, and nobody could have stopped it from coming but Megan herself…and she made her choice."

Samson was crying silently now, his hands shaking as he continued to gaze into the picture.

"Everyone has to die sometime, especially here," Jaymee continued. "Megan just chose to die on her own terms. She probably knew she was going to be shot anyway, but she died defiant. She died a hero. And even though I miss her, I know she can't come back, so what's the point in grieving? She's not truly out of your life…she's probably watching us right now, laughing at us for being so sappy. She wouldn't like anyone to beat themselves up over her, and you know it."

Jaymee fell silent, and Samson began to openly sob. He slowly put down the picture and buried his face in his hands. Jaymee was surprised…she had never seen Samson cry before. He was one of the strongest people she knew…how could he be thing affected?

Jaymee put a hand on Samson's shoulder, sitting quietly as he let out all of his feelings of despair. She wasn't in any hurry, after all, and anything was better than being alone. Samson continued crying for a few more minutes, but he slowly raised his head and began to wipe his eyes.

"I just…miss her, you know?" he said, now out of his monotonous rut. "I hate that I never said goodbye to her…"

"It's ok, Samson," Jaymee assured him. "But we don't have the time to be depressed, you know? Jalen's out there somewhere probably looking for us, and we should do the same."

"Yeah…yeah, you're right," Samson replied. "What's your weapon?"

"Some sort of nightstick," Jaymee told him, showing him the tonfa. "It's nothing much, but better than nothing I guess. Did you get anything good?"

Samson gave a small, derisive laugh. "I got a boomerang, but I chucked it somewhere."

"Good man," Jaymee laughed more genuinely. "I probably would have tossed it back at the school if I got something like that…only it would come back to me right away and stick in my head, with my luck."

That got Samson to smile. "That would be smooth."

"I know, right?" Jaymee said, rising up from her sitting position and stretching. "Come on, we're not getting anything done just sitting around. Let's find Jalen and get a team together."

Samson rose wordlessly, putting his picture of Megan in his pocket and flinging his pack back behind his back. "Where to?"

Jaymee Derrer (Girl #8) gestured forward, and as she walked away, Samson Reeves (Boy #16) took out his photograph again for one last time, gazing at it wistfully before hurriedly catching up to his new ally.

* * *

Of all the breakups that Sierra Guyer (Girl #12) had been through (which, she realized, had been way too many to keep track of), this one had to be the worst. She knew it would happen eventually since all of her relationships usually fell flat on their faces at some point, but for it to happen right now was the worst thing that could happen to her.

_How could he have done this to me in the middle of this…game?_

Sierra thought for sure that her boyfriend…_Ex-boyfriend_…Luis Valenzula (Boy #20) would protect her for sure. He was strong, tough, and had a posse of fellow strong and tough guys to back him up. It would have been perfect for Sierra to stick with those boys and have them keep away all the other untrustworthy people any from her. Even though it had taken Luis a while to exit the school, Sierra easily found his two lieutenants Alex Lough (Boy #11) and Chuck Luttmer (Boy #12). The three of them exited the school at around the same time, making it easy for them to just hunker down in a nearby bush and wait for their illustrious leader.

_Since when am I thinking of him as illustrious? _Sierra needed to get over him, and fast, for what he did to her immediately after finding the small group. As soon as Luis got within talking distance, he bluntly told her to "fuck off and let the men do their jobs." She was scandalized, fully intending to talk back, but before she could her football player boyfriend…_ex-boyfriend…_swiftly backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the ground with the sudden force.

It was the first time Luis had ever hit her. Sierra had been in abusive relationships before, but she hadn't expected it to happen with Luis. He may have been violent and crude, but he always was good to her. _Was it all just some act?_

When Luis ordered his group to leave her there and follow him, Sierra was surprised when Chuck protested. Chuck normally never spoke around anyone, and she had only heard him comment on anything once or twice. Luis, however, wasn't having it. He punched Chuck in the stomach hard, causing the larger boy to wince in pain. In the time it took Chuck to get his air back, Luis had quickly stolen Chuck's assigned weapon, which was a taser. Luis was about to shock him when Sierra told him to knock it off. And Luis wasn't having that either, and ordered Alex to go at her with his golf club.

Sierra ran away immediately, not wanting to take anymore damage other than a bruised face and a broken heart. Sierra ran as far as she could until she couldn't go any farther, crying as she went. She should have saw it coming, should have known that Luis would never want her around…how could she had been so stupid?

Sierra supposed that the only consolation was that the group didn't try and mug her. She still had all of her belongings, probably because she was smart enough not to look at her weapon until she ran away from the group of jocks. Despite having lied to Alex and Chuck saying that it wasn't anything good, Sierra knew in the right hands it could be extremely deadly. It wasn't a gun, which disappointed her, but it was a fantastic melee weapon: a Kama sickle, polished to a high sheen, reminding Sierra of the Grim Reaper's scythe.

While Sierra wasn't about to go around killing people like her boyfriend…_Stop it, he's your ex-boyfriend now…_Sierra had no qualms about defending herself. The only difference now was that she didn't have anyone else to watch her back but herself.

Once Sierra had calmed herself down, she took out her map and went down to figuring out where to go. Sierra could easily admit that she want to be in the forest without the sun. There was no telling who could be waiting in the shadows with a better weapon than her, after all. Using what little light there was from assorted cameras in the area, she began to read her map and figure out where she was, finding out all she happened to be was hopelessly lost.

_I'm sure Luis knows where he's going…why can't I figure it out?_ Seeing no other option, the former groupie wandered around aimlessly for a while trying to recognize any position on the map, feeling like she was being watched all the while. She had to constantly look behind her to make sure there really was no one on her tail. The sickle was made for sneak attacks, after all, not straight out frontal assaults, not to mention the possibility of being shot in the back of the head was high as well.

Even now, after almost two hours of wandering around, she had no clue where she was other than the fact she was heading east. The paranoia was beginning to get to her even more now, as well as all the sadness and anger she felt raging inside of her thanks to that wrestling boyfriend…_ex-boyfriend_…of hers. She needed to find a good place to hide out, now, before she lost it.

_Why can't I read this map? Have I suddenly lost any abilities I used to have on navigation just because I can't get over an abusive boyfriend?_ Sierra looked up from her map, ready to just toss it into the slight breeze until she saw what was right in front of her. It was a small cabin in the middle of the woods, totally unmarked on the useless piece of paper she held.

"Thank God!" she whispered to herself, breaking into a full on run towards the cabin. She would finally be able to stay safe, at least for a couple more hours. Maybe when the sun came up in a few hours, she could venture back into the forest and figure out a plan of defense for herself. But right now, those four walls would easily protect her from any threats! Not even a gun could pierce through those sturdy looking walls!

To her delight, the door wasn't locked. The powers that be must have known people would want to use this. Sierra would have it all to herself for sure! She just had to lock herself in and everything would be alright! With a wide smile, she opened the door, the sickle held at her side.

Sierra Guyer didn't realize the hell that waited for her beyond that door.

When she entered, the girl thought that the place was deserted, and her smile grew wider. There were assorted couches in the entrance room, as well as a small television. In a room beyond, Sierra saw a table for two set, and she supposed it was a kitchen of some kind. Perfect! That meant there had to be better food in here other than the nearly completely stale bread everyone had been supplied with. The thought of something good to eat made Sierra realize just how hungry she was. She had been trying to lose weight since she began dating Luis, even though she was at a healthy weight to begin with, and she hadn't been eating as much as she used to. Now that the two had been effectively separated, Sierra saw no harm in treating herself to something anyone else would kill (literally, Sierra guessed) to have in their mouths.

Sighing, now happily at ease, Sierra placed all her belongings other than the sickle on one of the couches. The sickle may not have been needed at the time, but Sierra felt comfortable with it in her grip. It made her feel more protected. Besides, if there were carrots somewhere in here, the sickle would make an excellent dicer.

With her mind on the food waiting for her, Sierra, for once in the game, did not look behind her until a heavy blow smacked the right side of her head, making her gasp in pain and lose her balance, falling to the wooden floor.

_What the fuck?_ She felt her head, still not looking to see who assailed her. To her shock, her hand came back sticky with blood. _What just happ-_

She couldn't finish the thought as another blow came to the back of her head, causing her to cry out this time. Feeling woozy, she turned to face her attacker as fast as the pain in her head would allow her to, still staying on the ground. Despite the darkness of the house, it was easy to tell that there was a slightly shorter boy she didn't recognize holding a wooden cane high above his head, ready to bring it down on her torso.

Sierra didn't allow him to, instead rolling to her side, dodging the cane and causing the boy to grunt.

"Stay away from me!" Sierra yelled, crab walking as quick as she could through the door to the kitchen, trying to stand erect as she did so. The boy followed her, swinging the cane and bringing it to the ground in the furious fashion of a housewife swatting a broom at a mouse, only much deadlier.

Sierra had almost stood up when the boy brought the walking assistant down sharply into her stomach, knocking the air out of her. _This shouldn't be happening! I have a better weapon!_

The only reason Sierra wasn't hit again was that she managed to get herself under the small table, grimacing from the pain. Still, it wasn't anything she wasn't used to. Many of her ex-boyfriends had done this to her. The only difference now was that she could defend herself.

The boy wasn't stupid, and knew the table was flimsy. He flipped it on it's side, forcing silverware to go flying and plates to break. Sierra hadn't expected this, but she still raised her scythe threateningly.

"Don't even try it!" she forced out, finally able to stand up without wanting to fall over. She brought the sickle above her head, fully prepared to stab it straight into the fucker's chest. The only problem was that she wasn't quick enough. The boy side-stepped the easy to read attack, bringing his cane down again on Sierra's right arm with enough force to cause it to snap.

Sierra screamed. "OH MY GOD! My arm!" She continued to curse, in too much pain to realize that her sickle had fallen to the floor in the assault. She backed away, yelling maliciously and cradling her now useless dominant hand until her back was against the wall. The boy seized the initiative, rushing to grab the fallen weapon as Sierra could only look on.

"No!" she yelled at him. "I won't let you do this!" She charged at the thieving assailant, hoping to bring him to the ground with her body weight to gain the advantage. But she was slower due to the pain and vertigo she was experiencing, and the boy sidestepped once more, swinging the cane again like a bat, connecting with Sierra's left side and forcing her to run into the nearby kitchen countertop.

She refused to fall down again, gripping the counter with her good hand, knowing she was in a horrible position. _None of this would be happening if I hadn't been dumped…_

Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt the cold steel of her former weapon against her throat. She was about to scream when the blade slit across her defenseless neck, causing her own blood to fall onto the countertop. She knew, then, that it was over.

_I…this is…no…_

Then Sierra Guyer's (Girl #12) world went black, and she thought no more.

* * *

The boy with the cane grinned with pleasure as he watched the bitch Sierra Guyer bleed everywhere, her arteries cut cleanly. He expected having to kill someone, anyone, would be difficult, both physically and mentally. But the fight easily went his way thanks to his ambush. And he found that as he slit the groupie's throat, he had never felt more alive. This was better than snowboarding ever was.

"You know," he said out loud. "This is the best I've ever felt in my entire life. I would say sorry, Sierra…but I'd be lying. Not only was this the most exhilarating experience I've had since I nailed that jump up at Bogus Basin without breaking any bones, but you were also one of the vainest most insecure people I've ever had the misfortune to talk to. You had this coming."

The girl's blood was everywhere, including the boy's light jacket and hands. He calmly walked over to the kitchen sink, washing thoroughly as he whistled "We Are the Champions" by Queen. There was no telling if the whore had AIDS or not, considering all the men she had slept with. He washed his new blade as well, wanting it to shine as it did before he pressed it against the bitch's throat.

"I suppose if anything, I should be thanking you," he continued his dialogue with the corpse. "This is a nice piece you drew, here. Better than those sleeping pills I got, anyway. I'm lucky some old couple used to live here, otherwise I wouldn't have had this cane, and then I would have had to really think on my feet." He dried his hands, flinging water droplets to Sierra's motionless body before using a nearby towel. "You really should have gotten a better look around here before he got all comfortable. I knew some idiot would walk in here alone eventually, but I didn't know it would be this fast."

The boy exited the kitchen, taking off his now red jacket and throwing it in a nearby closet, taking out his own belongings that he had hid in there before Sierra showed up. He called back to the dead girl in the other room "Thanks for being stupid as usual, Sierra! Really worked out for the both of us, wouldn't you say?"

Knowing that there was no point in sticking around now that he had a better weapon, the boy gathered Sierra's pack as well before exiting the log cabin, smiling a sadistic smile as he thought of his many victims to come.

* * *

**Students Eliminated**

**Guyer, Sierra (Girl #12)**

**39 Students Remaining**

* * *

_(A/N: I'm reasonably pleased with how the chapter turned out, but if you have any constructive critisisms of it, I would DEFINITELY be glad to hear them! See that review button under this text? You should click it and tell me what you think! Opinions, critisisms, anything is appreciated!)_


	6. Hour 3: Just the Two of Us

**Disclaimer:** If Battle Royale belonged to me, would I need a disclaimer?

**A/N:** Nope, I'm not dead! :D I rushed to finish this hour up. It's been half done for ages, I just didn't have the time to finish it until today. I really didn't want to keep my faithful readers waiting for another week (a couple in particular), so I really buckled down and finished it up. I'm still pleased with how it turned out, to an extent. Also, I would just like to point out in advance I know absolutely nothing about rodeo, so if there's any glaring discrepencies in my descriptions of it, please let me know!

* * *

Battle Royale: Glorious Revolution

Chapter 5: Hour 3- Just the Two of Us

_The only thing that Pamela Drashner hated about going to her brother's major rodeo competitions was that she was always so worried. She knew the reason why, but she knew it was silly. She, obviously, wasn't the one putting herself in danger by riding a wild, bucking gelding that could easily crush her petite body. That was always Kurt's decision; he almost never got hurt, anyway. After all, if he injured himself each and every time he planted himself in that saddle, there would be no chance of him ever qualifying for these state championships every year. But Pamela couldn't help but be scared for her fearless elder's safety. Just because he usually got out of the ring and off the horse unscathed didn't mean that there was no chance of his back breaking underneath the hooves of the behemoth that he would be riding today._

_That, and there was always a chance (albeit a slim one) that Kurt wouldn't manage to place again this year. Whenever her older brother didn't manage to place in the top three of his age group, he grew extremely irritable and hard to deal with at home. Pamela hated it whenever this happened, as he usually found ways of making the entire clan's life a living hell for a couple weeks with his endless practicing, drinking binges and constant negativity._

_Luckily, it looked like this year he would take first place. Most of those in his age group had posted nowhere near Kurt's usual score in the saddle bronc event. As long as the unthinkable stayed unthinkable, her three year older brother would easily add another huge trophy to his massive collection._

That is, if he doesn't manage to kill himself this year, _Pamela thought worriedly as she sat near the front of the ring with her parents and younger siblings. Her father, wearing his usual black cowboy hat with his black denim shirt, was in a deep conversation with Eric, the sibling closest to her in age, concerning the last rider's horrible form. The twins, Duncan and DeAnna, were bickering about something stupid as usual. Pamela's mother was pointing out the various horses to the youngest of the children, two year old Bailey, sitting on her lap with a wide grin on her freckled face. None of them seemed to be as worried about Kurt as Pamela was, and all of them were likely enjoying themselves much more than herself as well._

_"To those of you just joining us this afternoon," called out the announcer across the speakers, "welcome to the fifty-seventh annual Idaho Youth Rodeo State Championships!" After a period of applause enthusiastically given by the crowd, the man continued. "As all of you no doubt know, this year has been as competitive as ever for each and every age group, and I'm sure that all the competitors this year are fired up to take home the coveted trophy back home with them! Right now, we're in the midst of our saddle bronc event for thirteen to fifteen year olds is underway and extremely close. In the lead is fifteen year old Ian Holmes with a score of 82, with fellow fifteen year old Cole Patterson nipping at his heels with 81 and fourteen year old Walt Lambert at 80! Give a cheer for these three exceptional young riders!"_

_Pamela politely clapped as her father snorted derisively next to her with his arms folded. "Those three barely held on for eight seconds," he explained to Eric. "There's no way that any of these kids could hold a candle to Kurt's skill out there. Watch, this next one is going to fall off at three."_

_Pamela squinted across the ring to get a better look at the starting gate, which was being loaded right at the moment with the next horse and rider. _

_"Dad," Pamela tapped her father's shoulder. "Could I use your binoculars for a second?"_

_He nodded, deciding that this rider was unworthy of the sight granted by the lenses. Pamela quickly rose the contraption to her own hazel eyes, getting a better look at the next boy. She usually only cared about Kurt's runs, but this next boy's house looked like a stunning animal. The coat seemed so well cared for that she loved getting a better look at it._

_That wasn't all she got a look at, and she felt her face grow red as she focused the lens on the face of the rider himself. He was tall and disarmingly handsome, flashing the whitest smile she had ever seen as he prepared himself for the ride. He looked to be Pamela's age, which made Pamela wonder why she had never seen him before in younger divisions._

_"About to come next out of the gate is Kirk Darr, thirteen years old, hailing from Ada County!" came the announcer's voice._

_Kirk Darr…they were the same age and lived in the same county, so why hadn't she met him before? She had a feeling she would have remembered a face like his. Her heart thumped wildly just looking at him, surprising her greatly. Part of her wanted to put down the binoculars to make it stop, but the other side of her forced her to keep her arms up, drinking in his magnificent features._

_The boy-Kirk-was about to raise his hand to signal the gates to open, but before he did, he looked straight at Pamela and her binoculars. He smiled wider, tipping his cowboy hat at her._

_This gesture made Pamela both jump and shiver in delight, and she put down the binoculars for a couple seconds to regain her composure, taking deep breaths._

_"Are you alright, Pam?" asked DeAnna, who sat to Pamela's right. She must have seen Pamela's jump, or at least taken note of her new breathing._

_"Y-yeah," Pamela said quickly, hoping her dad wasn't looking her way. If he saw how red she knew she was right now, he would ask questions. Questions Pamela wouldn't want to answer, not only because her answers would be completely embarrassing, but also because her father would likely strangle poor Kirk. "Perfect!"_

_All of a sudden, the gates opened and the horse ran into the ring, bucking with all of its might as it ran. Kirk moved gracefully with the horse, not even close to losing his grip on the animal, despite how quickly it was moving and how abruptly it kicked it's legs in the air. It was amazing to Pamela, like pure poetry. Her father had now quickly taken the binoculars back, seeing that this boy was not the three second rider he predicted. Duncan was now leaning on the rail, shouting encouragement. Pamela wanted to join her younger sibling, but felt rooted to her seat on the bleacher._

_At eight seconds, a whistle blew and Kirk jumped quickly off of the horse. Amazingly, he still had his hat on, a feat no other rider had accomplished yet. Wild applause erupted throughout the crowd, but Kirk seemed modest about it as he ran to the other side of the ring, not wanting to be anywhere near the horse anymore._

_With a start, Pamela realized he wasn't going to the place where riders usually went to get their scores, but coming towards the crowd. To her._

_Pamela stood up without thinking, getting up towards the rail with Duncan as Kirk got closer, closer, close enough to talk to._

_"Hey!" the rider called out, looking straight at Pamela. "Do you have a name, beautiful?"_

_Pamela grew much redder as she realized everyone in the vicinity was staring right at her. "Pamela!" she managed to choke out._

_"Your parents didn't give you a last name?" he joked._

_"Drashner! It's Drashner!"_

_"I'm Kirk Darr," he said with a smile. "I'll find you later, I promise!"_

_With that, he ran back to the start to exit the ring and get his scores, leaving Pamela's heart thumping and face reddened as she stood on the rail. She didn't know how long she stayed standing there, watching Kirk leave and get a score of 88, but she knew that she could have stood there forever just thinking about him._

_She had never had a crush this major before, and she had only exchanged four words with the object of her affections. She couldn't wait to see him again, as she inevitably knew she would._

_

* * *

Two years ago, Pamela Drashner (Girl #9) would never have expected to be in a fight for her life on a deserted island with the very boy who came out of nowhere to destroy her brother's hopes and dreams. Then again, two years ago she never would have expected to meet the love of her life._

Kirk Darr (Boy #4). Rodeo champion. Honors student. Excellent kisser. And now…protector.

As she exited that school of sadism, Pamela was scared out of her mind. She had never heard of anything like Battle Royale. The idea of anyone she knew having to kill anyone else she knew, including herself, haunted her to the very core. She knew she would never be able to lay a finger on anyone, even if they wanted to lay any finger on her. The only thing that kept her emotions under control was Kirk, who was there to greet her immediately out of the front doors, brandishing a very lethal looking crowbar.

He took her hand and dragged her along with him until they made the forest and, for good measure, ran for a few minutes more. Neither of them said a word until Kirk came to a sudden stop, turned to face Pamela, and initiated a passionate kiss that left Pamela's heart thumping wilder than it already was. Pamela didn't know how long they had embraced, but it didn't feel long enough to her. Everything all of a sudden seemed rushed, as if every single move had to be made five minutes before it would usually be even thought of.

Kirk, Pamela knew, was pissed off about the circumstances. If Pamela had learned anything about him in the two years they had been dating, it was that whenever Kirk got angry at someone, they had better run for cover. He ranted about how fucked up the whole game was, saying how unfair it was that their lives had to end this way and how the government was just using them as scapegoats for their own stupidity. Still, despite his pulsing anger, Pamela admired how quickly he had taken charge of their predicament. He knew about the game, and knew that they would need cover fast. After his rant, he gently told Pamela to have her weapon out at all times and be prepared to use it if she had to.

Pamela didn't like the idea of bashing the 2x4 she received into someone's head, but she complied with Kirk's order. Despite her small height and frame, she was much stronger than she looked. She grew up on a farm, after all; all her chores must have helped her muscles develop.

Still, she doubted she would have to use the plank of wood. Kirk immediately swore to protect her at all costs, sealing his promise with a quick peck. Pamela believed him with every fiber of her now shortened existence. She knew Kirk loved her, and she had always loved him back. With him around, all she would have to worry about was to hope she would die painlessly with Kirk by her side.

Kirk seemed to have the same idea, and when he pointed out a nearby suburban district on the map to hide in, she couldn't help but feel excited to have a house alone with her boyfriend. Despite the dangers, she continued to day dream about what was soon to come, her 2x4 not even raised threateningly anymore.

_It will be just the two of us…no one to bother us as we just lay in each other's arms, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. No crazy freaks like Mrs. Yaka to shoot us in the face, no more having to walk around aimlessly waiting to be attacked, no parents coming in our room every fifteen minutes to "check on us…"_

Pamela stopped in her tracks. This was the first time since waking up halfway out of her desk in the school that she thought about her family. _I'll never see any of them again, will I? Mom and Dad…the twins…baby Bailey…Eric…_

_Kurt…will this send you into another downward spiral?_

She felt tears well up in her eyes, obscuring her admittedly limited vision in the darkness of the early morning. Kirk didn't seem to realize she had stopped until she gave a small squeak of a sob.

The tall boy turned around, calmly walked over to his girlfriend, and embraced her. Kirk's warm touch made Pamela involuntarily shiver, just like always, but it did not bring her peace. Instead, she just couldn't stop crying. Thoughts of her family, probably all gathered around the television or computer right now watching her bawl her eyes out, caused her heart to cry out in sadness.

Kirk stroked Pamela's hair, his voice barely above a whisper and yet still clear as a wedding bell to the stricken young woman. "It's okay, Pamela. Let it all out, I understand."

Pamela should have felt comforted, but his words, if anything, made her cry even more. "Do you?" she managed to drag out.

"Of course I do," he continued to whisper into her waiting ear. "I can't imagine how my uncle is reacting right now. He's probably as pissed off as I am, yelling and cursing like I would be if you weren't here. Unless those soldiers went and arrested him for disorderly conduct before we woke up…or worse. I bet he took ten of those sons of bitches with him if they really _did_ try and kill him, though."

Pamela normally would have chuckled at that, but found she couldn't. Could Kirk really understand? His parents were long dead, she knew. He had been raised by his aunt and uncle, and he had no siblings or cousins to live with. Pamela, meanwhile, had so many siblings she often couldn't keep track of them, and two parents that were extremely involved in her life. She didn't know where she would be without any of them.

"It'll all be fine," Kirk continued, clearly not trying to think of his own family. "I can keep us both safe for as long as I can, and you know how long I can hold on to things." Pamela still cried, silent and swimming in both her thoughts of home and her salty tears. She knew Kirk was being honest as always, but she still didn't think it was the same thing to miss an uncle compared to missing a father. She didn't want to dwell on the thought right then, though. _Not under these circumstances._

"Let's keep moving, we can't stay in the open for long," Kirk said, giving Pamela's hand a squeeze. "We should be nearly to the suburbs, anyway, according to the map." Kirk paused, and added almost as an afterthought, "I love you. You know that, right?"

_Of course I do…but I don't know if you understand me all the time…_

"I love you, too," Pamela replied, her voice quiet as she wiped her eyes with a sleeve. She couldn't get into it about their relationship now. She just had to keep focusing on what was to come: time alone with her boyfriend.

The two kissed briefly, and then continued walking. Pamela tried to get her family out of her head by thinking about Kirk, but found she could only think about their relationship, so she tried thinking of other things. Still, every road seemed to lead to her family, which would lead her back to Kirk. She felt conflicted.

She knew they hadn't been walking long when they reached a long field on the top of a tall hill. The suburban district the two had been trying to get to was probably at the bottom of it, and it was surprisingly steep.

"Wasn't expecting this," Kirk said under his breath. He squinted his eyes. "I wonder if there's an easier way down there?"

"There would have to be," Pamela said tactfully, glad that she wouldn't have to think about the very things that had been distracting her for so long. "How would people leave if there wasn't? Check the map."

"The map doesn't say anything about any hill," Kirk replied with a slight edge.

"Are you sure you're reading it right? They wouldn't leave something like this out."

"I know how to read maps, Pam. I got us here, didn't I?"

"Let me see the map," Pamela told him. "I refuse to believe that they wouldn't add the fact we're on the top of a steep hill off of there."

"There's nothing like that."

"Well, there's no way I'm going down that hill anyway, even if there's houses down there. I guarantee one of us will break something."

"Whatever," Kirk snapped, obviously not wanting to deal with complaints. "Let's just go around the damn thing." Pamela couldn't understand which feeling she felt more; she felt a pang of regret for making her boyfriend and ally mad, but also a thrill of pleasure for pushing him to an edge she normally couldn't get out of him.

_Stop it. This is no time for tension!_

They were just about to set off to find somewhere less steep when Kirk squinted ahead. "Do you see what I see?"

Pamela didn't know how Kirk could see anything in this twilight, but obliged him anyway. When she did, she felt terror rise up within her.

A dark figure with an average height was speeding towards them. Pamela couldn't tell if this person, whoever they were, had any sort of weapon, but she had a bad feeling that nothing good could come of this.

"We need to run!" she gasped stressfully, and she was just about to take her own advice when, to a mixture of advanced horror and disgust, Kirk called out to their new assailant.

"Hold on, stop!"

Kirk was now running towards the figure to meet them halfway. Pamela couldn't believe how stupid he was being. He was the one who had heard of this game before, and he was just saying a couple of hours ago not to trust anyone. What was with the sudden change of heart?

"Kirk, wait!" she called after him, seeing no choice but to follow her hasty boyfriend. She now raised her 2x4, feeling she would soon have to use it.

The figure stopped, and as Pamela covered more ground, she immediately realized the dangers had increased ten fold. It was none other than one of the cheerleaders, one of the pack of girls that Pamela generally despised.

Victoria Burke's (Girl #3) presence would have been bad enough. The fact that she had raised her now visible gun (a Colt Python, if Pamela wasn't mistaken) meant catastrophe.

"Kirk, look out!" Pamela yelled, ducking.

BANG.

The shot rang out clearly, leading Kirk to curse loudly. At first, from her now prone position, Pamela thought that Kirk had been hit, but the bullet appeared to have just barely passed over him. Pamela felt she was about to cry once more, this time out of fear, when Kirk started to speak again.

"Calm down!" Kirk called out. "We aren't going to hurt you, we swear!"

"Bullshit!" Victoria yelled, her pistol still aiming directly at Kirk's head. Her hand was shaking. "I can't trust you! I can't trust anyone!"

"What are you talking about?" Kirk tried. "We're not going to kill anyone! Not you, and not anyone else out there?"

"Bullshit!" Victoria repeated. _Is that the only word in her vocabulary?_ Pamela thought maliciously. "You two were charging at me! I'm not going to die! I didn't ask for this!"

"It's just a misunderstanding!" Kirk said. "We just wanted to see if you needed help!"

_We? _Pamela thought, a fire pulsing through her insides. _What do you mean, we? You're the bonehead who charged up to her!_ In fact, this was probably one of the last people on Earth Pamela would ever want to speak with. Memories of the hell Victoria and her merry band of prostitutes used to give Pamela back in Idaho were still fresh in her mind.

"I DON'T NEED ANY MORE HELP!" Victoria screamed. "Just stay down on the ground!"

"Come on, we _can_ help!" Kirk said resolutely, beginning to straighten up to a kneeling position. "You don't have to-"

"No!" Pamela called out a split second before Victoria fired again.

BANG.

Kirk gasped loudly, but Pamela knew it was another miss. Victoria could barely aim with her hand trembling as if the earth was quaking underneath her.

"Leave me alone!" Victoria, now sobbing, slowly walked past the couple on the ground, keeping her handgun raised. She had just about gotten past the both of them when Kirk called out again.

"Victoria!"

"SHUT UP! I know what everyone's help really is! Help is hell!" Without further ado, Victoria Burke (Girl #3) turned her back to the couple, running as fast as she could with her pack slapping across her back as she did so.

Neither Pamela nor Kirk moved just then, both waiting until they knew for certain the cheerleader had fled into the forest. Pamela soon stood up, crying from her fear for Kirk's life and a bit of anger for his actions.

"Why did you do that?" she nearly yelled. "If Victoria knew how to shoot a gun, we would have been more than just target practice!"

"It was Victoria Burke!" Kirk quickly raised himself from the grass, defending his decision.

"Exactly!" Pamela said. "Do you know who she hangs out with?"

"She never used to be like them!" Kirk firmly stated matter-of-factly. "She only joined their squad this year, and she wasn't even with any of them just now! I thought she would be okay!"

"She had a gun!"

"The better to protect all of us with!" Kirk argued.

"But she shot at you! _Twice_!"

"You think I don't know that?" Kirk rolled his eyes. "Look, neither of us are dead, we didn't get mugged, and now we're free to go! It shouldn't matter! Let's just drop it."

Pamela fully intended to keep arguing with him, but realized if she did that it would just open a rift…and Pamela still loved Kirk, despite his poor foresight. "Fine," she said haughtily. "Let's go."

The two embraced once again.

_"_I love you," Kirk Darr (Boy #4) whispered.

"I love you, too," Pamela Drashner (Girl #9) replied.

She only wondered if she would still be able to say that 69 hours from now.

* * *

There was be no persuading her. No matter how much her friend had pointed out how much safer it would be to find shelter, no matter how much she insisted they would be killed if they stayed in the forest, and no matter how many times she insisted she was hearing screams and gunfire, Diane Gurnett (Girl #11) would not relent, saying that they needed to stay in the forest, citing "something important that we need to do first." Any attempts Ainsley Lough (Girl #17) made to talk the goth dancer out of staying, or even to figure out what that "something important" was, fell on deaf ears.

Ainsley wasn't too shocked. She had known how stubborn her best friend could be when she really set her mind to it. Not to mention how smart Diane always was, and how she was always thinking five steps ahead of Ainsley herself. And considering the weapon Diane had received, it was obvious that she would have no real reason to fear what lurked in the forest as much as Ainsley did.

While Ainsley saw no real reason to have her given weapon out (a peach colored, ornate, Japanese hand fan…a clever way to pay homage to the country of origin, she thought), Diane was holding what was arguably one of the best weapons anyone could have been given, a Remington 870. A shotgun with enough power to take down anything at a close enough range. The taller girl with the dyed pitch black hair held the formidable weapon defensively; it was not quite up in the air and aiming every which way, instead being held loosely with a finger near the trigger, but not exactly on it. Ainsley thought it was scary how her best friend could be so comfortable holding a weapon like that while continually scanning the forest for any sort of threat.

_I still don't think this is a good idea, even with that weapon. We should be somewhere with walls and a roof, not trees and a moon._

"Diane," Ainsley piped up again, brushing a stray strand of her own naturally black hair out of her face. "We've been walking around this forest since we got out of the school. Can you please tell me what we're doing that's such a big deal to you?"

"That depends," Diane said, her voice stunningly calm given the situation. "Do you know where we are on the map? You're still looking at it, right?"

Ainsley had volunteered to keep track of their position since her weapon was nothing more than a shoutout to those authoritarians of the Greater Republic of East Asia, and despite Diane leading the way through completely random movements, Ainsley had been able to always keep track of their position. She had been gifted with a good sense of direction, never seeming to get lost.

"Of course I am," Ainsley reassured the shotgun wielder. "We're at H6. It's not too far away from the business sections." She fell quiet, and when Diane didn't reply, she added "What difference does our position make? Why can't you just say what you're up to right here? Or better yet, in a house where we know no one will pop out of bushes?"

"We're not going to any of the suburban districts," Diane said, still calm and looking out into the distance, where there seemed to be nothing but trees.

Ainsley sighed, and asked "Why not?"

"Think about it," Diane said. "Anyone smart is going to go find shelter. I can't blame them for thinking that. No one can. But everyone out here who's going to buy into this thing? If they're not completely braindead like your brother and his jock friends-"

"Don't talk about him like that!" Ainsley interrupted, feeling the need to stand up for the twin she wished she wasn't cursed with. "I hate Alex just as much as you do, but he's not stupid. He's in all of our classes, and they're all advanced courses…he can't have gotten there if he was braindead, right?"

"Well, even if he isn't braindead, Luis and Chuck both are, and you know how Alex worships Luis' every action."

Ainsley couldn't argue there. Alex was always hanging out with Luis Valenzula (Boy #20) and his main bruiser, Chuck Luttmer (Boy #12), but it was always just as a hanger on. He would just do whatever Luis told him to do, and if they hadn't met up yet, she was certain Alex would be going out of his way to look for him at this very moment. It's just something her cross country star of a twin would do.

"Sorry," Ainsley said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," Diane said, now gazing at her friend instead of the green foliage that surrounded them. "I shouldn't have called him braindead. But still, while him and his group are likely to stay in the forest and pick off the ones too frightened to look for cover, the more methodical players are going straight to those suburban districts as we speak to kill anyone they find there. So we're not heading down there to get killed this early. There's too much we need to do."

It was a fair point, so Ainsley jumped to the next subject. "'Too much we need to do?' Will you tell me what that's supposed to mean?"

"Are you sure we're at H6?"

"Yes, but I don't get why that-"

"We can stop here," Diane said. "We've been walking forever, and my feet are killing me."

"We're stopping?" Ainsley asked, brought short and annoyed that she didn't get to finish her sentence.

"Yeah, this seems like a safer place," Diane nodded, walking over to the nearest tree, placing her pack and weapon down on the forest floor, and sat down with a sigh. Ainsley sat down next to her, still keeping her ears out for any sort of disturbance.

"I never in a million years thought this would happen to us," Diane started, looking straight at Ainsley with a sad smile. "Remember that article we read last year?"

"How could I forget?" Ainsley replied, smiling back at her closest friend. "A whole story about the most deadly winner of any Battle Royale in Japanese history…how could someone our age brutally murder 23 people and still smile like everything was normal? Like it was all okay that all of his classmates died, most of them by his hand? We were so disgusted that we couldn't eat lunch that day, remember?"

"Well, it was fish taco day anyway, it would have made me puke regardless," Diane chuckled at the memory. "I think that was a month before we both changed our styles, right?"

"Yeah," Ainsley remembered. Neither of them really truly believed in the gothic lifestyle, and neither of them worshipped devils or any of the other stereotypical gothic activities. It was at Ainsley's suggestion that they adopt the style of dressing in black most of the time and wearing too many earrings and too much eyeliner. Ainsley was tired of always being compared to Alex, since they looked very much alike, and she figured turning goth would be the easiest way to get her teachers and distant family members to stop comparing her to her lunatic twin. Diane was only goth to make sure Ainsley wasn't alone, although the style suited her much better than it did for the twin. Black was her color, and the style gave her a kind of mysterious beauty that prep could never grant.

The two girls continued to reminisce about the old days until a small crunch of leaves brought them back to their current position.

"It was just an animal or something," Diane said calmly. "No big deal."

Ainsley shook her head, trying to alleviate some of her surprise at the sudden sound when she remembered what she was going to ask before. "Okay, so what's the big deal of staying in the forest? What's so important?"

Diane continued to smile that sad smile. "When we left the school, that article we read was at the top of my thoughts. That guy was obviously psycho, but he was just what the Japanese government wanted for their television program. They wanted someone who could kill efficiently, swiftly, and as messily as possible for the maximum amount of gore. I'm guessing that Mrs. Yaka and everyone back at that school are banking on some of us to do exactly what that boy did."

"Gross," Ainsley said with a shudder. "It's still hard enough to believe that we're supposed to kill each other until there's one left. I can't bear to think of any of us trying to kill anyone else. It doesn't seem…" She struggled to find the correct adjective.

Diane finished the sentence for her. "…human?"

"Right," Ainsley said. "It doesn't seem human. Not even Luis seems capable of what everyone seems to expect of us. Murder? It's not right."

"Well, you know that in an environment like this, where it's life and death, dog eat dog…anyone can be capable of it," Diane said morosely. "Some people will see this as their only shot at freedom, some people will see cameras and feel the need to become a monster for the view pleasures of millions around the globe. A murderer can be anyone, given the right circumstances."

Diane looked at her Remington for a few seconds before continuing on. "More importantly, it's all government sanctioned. When anyone can get away with it, murder will seem easy."

"That doesn't make it right!" Ainsley argued fiercely in response to Diane's monologue. "What about the victims? What about their families? The friends they have that aren't in this game? Just because it's legal out here doesn't mean those loved ones shouldn't get justice for their children and well-wishers?"

"Of course it's not right," Diane agreed, serene as ever. "But any weirdo who gets his kicks from watching us murder each other will tune in. So the people who put this together obviously want us to kill each other. Those who do will be adored by any fan of this shit. And the one who dishes out the most carnage? They'll be heroes to the government."

Ainsley didn't see how talking about death like actual goths did on a daily basis was getting her closer to finding out why Diane was adamant on staying put. "What are you trying to say? I know you have a point, but we're kind of talking in circles right now."

"You're right," Diane agreed. "I was just about to get to that point, too. You see, the winners of these things are usually the ones with the biggest body count, the most sadistic kills, and the most adoring fans. Fans who will tune in year after year to see if someone else can be just as sadistic and evil as their predecessor. We can't let America idolize people like that." She took a deep breath before continuing, and said resolutely "We have to kill those fucks."

Ainsley felt like someone had just slapped her across the face. _No way…us…kill people? Make people suffer?_

"It's not like we'll go around killing everyone we see!" Diane elaborated. "Anyone who we know for a fact has killed anyone else over the course of this 'game' are the types of people who don't deserve life. Who don't deserve to be paraded around the world as an idol. Who deserve to be brought to justice for the lives they chose to end. We'll kill only those who are guilty. The less people going around killing others, the better. We'll be doing our part to make sure someone with an actual conscience wins this and keeps their life instead of a shell of a person who knows nothing of emotion!"

"How does that make us better people than them?" Ainsley snapped. "We'll be just as bad! Going around killing people isn't right, no matter what they did to others! We can't be like that!"

"What we can't do is let douche bags like Luis Valenzula kill everything that moves! Kill our friends! Our classmates! The innocent! That's what we can't do! We can't sit back and watch our friends die! We have to do something about it!"

Diane grew louder with every sentence, focused on the new role she had made for herself.

"So what happens when it's just the two of us?" Ainsley challenged with a cold tone. "Will you kill me? Will my life be less worth it?"

"It won't be just the two of us!" Diane said impatiently. "If all we do is kill people who have already killed, eventually the only people left will be the ones who wouldn't hurt a fly! People like Holly Smith (Girl #20) , or people like Megan Zorn if she was still alive!"

"Then what? We just wait for our collars to explode?"

"Now you're getting it," Diane said. "We're all fucked anyway. If all we do is kill the people who will only just kill everyone else, then we can end what remains of our lives in peace! Let our authoritarian inspired government see how this game won't get to us! Deprive the world of someone who may go out and kill again!"

Ainsley wasn't convinced. "This is still wrong. Even killing people who have already killed others doesn't sit well with me."

"Not really with me, either," Diane told her. "But I can't let someone like Luis take this. And there are some other people I can't say I trust to stay innocent."

"Oh really?" Ainsley said sarcastically. "You mean we can't count on Ji Chon (Girl #6) and her group to play nice?"

"Well…there are others out there," Diane said quietly. "You never know who may buy into this."

"You want to find someone, don't you?" Ainsley pushed. "You can't hide that from me, I know when you like someone!"

Diane turned pink, but told her friend "It's not what you think. It's just that I don't trust them. It's not their nature to sit by do nothing. And I bet you anything that gunshot you heard was probably Luis' first victim."

"I still don't believe it of anyone," Ainsley said. "It's not human. All of us have a soul."

"Regardless, I don't trust him, so he should be the first one we should be seeking out." Diane said calmly. "And if your brother is with him…then…"

"We're not killing Alex," Ainsley said flatly. "I won't allow it."

"Then you better hope he keeps his nose clean of whatever Luis is trying to do," Diane said coldly. "I don't trust your brother, and neither should you."

"He's blood!" Ainsley nearly yelled. "How can you expect me to condone your killing of my twin, no matter how much both of us may hate him?"

Diane didn't answer her, instead standing up from her position on the grass and stretching. "Let's get moving. We're going to have to patrol the forest until we find Luis, if he really has killed someone, but I don't doubt it for a second. He's too stupid to have left this forest." She grabbed the Remington and her pack, and motioned Ainsley to rise with her.

Ainsley Lough (Girl #17) may not have liked it, but she knew that there was no talking Diane Gurnett (Girl #11) out of her mission of "justice." But she also knew she couldn't let her friend do this alone, so she rose to follow Diane farther into the forest, praying that Luis and her brother were far, far away.

* * *

Ainsley and Diane didn't know it, but they were being tailed.

Elias McAfee's (Boy #13) arm still really hurt, and he knew eventually it would do much more than just bring him pain. But when he had stumbled across the two goths as they spoke of old times, he promptly forgot his pain. Both the girls, when they smiled, just had a sort of aura about them. An aura of grace, of kindness…of beauty. Captivated, Elias was just about to reveal himself to the two when he realized what had happened the last time he had tried. He was certain that both of them had heard him, as they had looked in his direction, but luckily he wasn't seen.

As they talked, Elias was taken in even more by Diane's determination and Ainsley's angelic defiance. The pair was captivating. There was no other word for it. Elias doubted he could find anyone else as entertaining as these two may be. When they rose to leave, Elias did with them.

Elias McAfee (Boy #13) didn't like being alone, after all, and these girls seemed both like good subjects and brilliant protectors.

* * *

_Damn it all!_

Leslie Haupt (Girl #14) was lost, she had known she was lost since she left that fucking school, and if Leslie didn't find out where B2 was soon, she knew she would be dead. _I wish Jacob would have waited for me. But no, all he did was give me his cryptic "B2, Leslie," spiel, leaving me to try and decipher this map. I can't navigate anything to save my life, and he should have known that before just leaving me at that school…_

As much fun as it was abusing her best friend Jacob Jones (Boy #8) in her thoughts, Leslie knew that she didn't mean any of it. What Jacob did was smart in the long run. He wasn't putting himself in any major danger by waiting for someone who probably would only slow him down. Instead he picked a random spot and had probably been waiting this entire time, waiting to see if his bandmate would show up. He was probably hiding, too, so no twisted fucker who heard him announce his position to everyone else still in the classroom would get any bright ideas to slice him up with a hand saw or something. Part of Leslie even believed that he had left already since she hadn't arrived as early as he planned, and had left the area he said to meet at.

It was a small part, though. Jacob wouldn't leave without her. Leslie had to believe that.

The only consolation of being lost was that no one else had found her. At least the dark had made her blend in quite nicely. No one had tried to slit her throat or shoot at her, which Leslie could only see as a positive sign. _Or maybe I was spotted, and they just ignored me like they always did at school._ Not that Leslie cared about life at Lake Point now. Hell, it was only almost three complete hours into the game, and Leslie could barely even remember that she used to have a peaceful, if depressing, life that didn't involve her being paranoid over who may or may not be prepared to gut her with some sort of Asian blade.

Frowning, Leslie took a look at her map again, trying to take notice of her surroundings. She was positive she went north, which was where B2 was compared to the school. She just didn't know if she went east or west from there, and had no real clue where she was. _Couldn't the government at least put up signs?_ She shook her head, exasperated.

Standing still was getting her nowhere, especially since she couldn't gather where she was anyway. Maybe if the suddenly sadistic Mrs. Yaka had given her a better weapon, she would be less worried about being suddenly attacked. A rope wouldn't really get her anywhere unless the other person didn't have any weapon at all. She wondered if Jacob had the good fortune to obtain a gun or something-

"Thunder Empire!" whispered a nearby voice that made Leslie jump out of her skin.

Wait a minute, that wasn't just any voice. Despite it being barely a whisper, Leslie could not mistake the tone of it.

"Jacob?" she said loudly.

She heard leaves rustling, along with a few branches being cut, and then out of the nearby bushes came the tall figure of Jacob Jones, holding two small, dagger type blades with a wide smile on his face. Leslie blinked, not entirely sure she was awake or not. But it was too real to believe it to be a dream.

"You're alive!" Leslie said with a hearty laugh, and ran closer to the drummer. Jacob too was grinning. He placed both of his blades into his open pack, and raised one of his now open hands in a high five invitation. Leslie gladly accepted it, and the resounding clap was one of the best sounds Leslie had ever heard.

"Of course I am!" Jacob told her, grinning. "It's great to see you, Les."

"You have no idea how freaked out I was!" Leslie rambled in her deep voice. "I've been walking around in what was probably circles ever since I left that place, thinking about how fucked I was for getting lost and not being able to find you! Then I started thinking about the band and how Scott and Josh and probably watching me bumble around trying to find you while eating popcorn or something!"

Jacob smiled, obviously thinking that would be something their bassist and lead singer would do. "Hey, at least you found the right place."

Leslie nodded, and all of a sudden she remembered. _He has to have a plan!_ "How are we getting out of here?"

Jacob blinked. "Out of here?"

"You know, off the island! Back home! Not getting killed with everyone else! You have a plan, right? You always do!"

Jacob looked down, frowning. "Les…" He fell silent. Leslie felt her elation at finding Jacob start to plummet into something like extreme disappointment.

"You mean…you don't know what to do?"

"Of course I know what to do!" Jacob said. "It just has nothing to do with getting out of here alive."

Leslie's extreme disappointment plummeted even farther into deep depression. "You mean to tell me we're still both as fucked as Jessica Seibold (Girl #19) on a Saturday night?"

Jacob nodded, frowning. "You didn't seriously think I was smart enough to know how to get off this island with our heads intact, did you? I'm not Holly Smith (Girl #20), I wouldn't even know where to start to get these collars off our necks. And I'm sure those people in the school aren't stupid enough to have any boats around for us to steal so we could escape back to America…sorry, Leslie."

Leslie felt like crying. Jacob always knew what to do, always had an ace up his sleeve. Why didn't he have a trump card now when they really needed it most? But she knew an emotional outburst wouldn't be appreciated or understood by her friend, so Leslie merely resorted to asking in a monotone "So what is your plan? Death?"

"Eventually," Jacob said honestly. "But not until we find a couple things."

Finding things? _Right, because this is the perfect time to start a shell collection. _

"What do you mean, 'find a couple things?'"

"Come on, Les," Jacob said excitedly. "You know that Scott and Josh are probably in Scott's mom's basement right now pissed off about how our band is screwed now that we're going to die sometime in the next couple of days. But we can't let the band die with us!"

"I still don't know where this is going," Leslie continued in her monotone. _We're going to die…we're really _really _going to die._

"We're on national television! There's a camera right over there!" Jacob pointed to the nearest camera. "And over there! And there, too!"

"So?"

"Think of the publicity!" Jacob said, stars seemingly gleaming in his pupils. "Everyone will know who we are now! We'll be killed by some freak like Jalen Britton (Boy #2), that much is a given, but we can't die until we give America the message that even if one half of it is doomed, Thunder Mountain isn't going anywhere?"

Leslie was still pretty depressed over the thought of their coming death, but Jacob's enthusiasm was contagious. "How exactly are we going to do that?"

"We need to get instruments," Jacob said, now pacing back and forth, both of his blades back out of his bag. "A guitar for you and drums for me, obviously. There has to be a music place somewhere around here, all we need to do is raid it and get what we need. And then we're going to start writing a song. A song about this game. We probably won't finish by the time somebody comes around to kill us, but it'll be enough for Scott and Josh to pick up and finish. You know they'll be watching our every move, so they'll know what we're doing! They can replace us easy, and then Thunder Mountain will still be on the map!"

Leslie was creeped out at how easy it was for Jacob to accept that they were going to die soon, but she was just about to give a positive opinion when she saw someone running towards them in the distance, who gave a loud yell.

"Hey, you two! Look out!"

Jacob suddenly looked scarred, grabbed Leslie's arm and screamed "RUN!"

As Leslie was being dragged towards the figure she herself saw, she looked behind her to see three more, all of whom she recognized. Luis Valenzula (Boy #20) and Alex Lough (Boy #11), the latter of whom carrying a chrome golf club splattered with red, were only a few feet away from her. In the distance, Chuck Luttmer (Boy #12) was merely jogging, half-heartedly trying to keep up with his other two group members.

_We're going to get killed already? No…this can't be real!_

To her horror, Alex let out a battle cry and swiped at her head. The club barely missed connecting with its target, only just avoiding the mark by inches. Leslie felt the wind from the missed blow and heard the whistle of the coming club. This served to make her run faster and not look behind her anymore.

By looking ahead of her, she realized who it was who gave her and Jacob the warning to start running. To her surprise, it was none other than Cody Green (Boy #6). His usual grin had disappeared, instead showing a look of stony determination. He yelled out "GO THROUGH THE TREES!" Leslie saw him throw something at those behind her as her and Jacob took a sharp left into the nearby plants.

Cody joined them a second later, screaming "Don't look back!" Leslie, out of power of suggestion, looked back just to see why she shouldn't. No one was tailing them anymore, but she knew she heard Luis curse loudly and scream "FUCK! HIT THE DIRT!"

BOOM!

An explosion caused Leslie, Jacob and Cody all to be blown backwards, hitting the ground. Leslie barely had time to look back forwards, which saved her face from the shrapnel that was blowing everywhere due to Cody's fragmentation grenade. Luckily the trees caught most of the blast, but Leslie felt small slivers impound themselves into her skin.

No one was hurt badly enough, and Cody was still telling them all to run for their lives, and they did until they were positive Luis' gang wasn't chasing them anymore. Cody collapsed on the ground, clutching his chest. Jacob was now leaning against a tree, visibly shaken. Leslie herself could barely believe what had just happened…_It all just happened so fast…did that blast…did it kill any of them…?_

For a while, no one spoke, everyone trying to get their breaths back. It was Jacob who broke the silence. "You just saved our fucking lives, man."

Cody's grin returned with the gratitude, and he was still huffing and puffing as he said "Don't…mention…it…it was…nothing…is anyone…hurt?"

"I'm fine, just cut up a bit," Jacob said, trying to see the back of his arms. "You okay, Leslie?"

Leslie registered the use of her full name. "I'm fine. My back just caught a little bit of it…thanks Cody, you really did save us."

"I heard you guys talking, and I didn't want to be alone anymore," Cody said, his breath now mostly returned. "I knew I could trust you guys. But as soon as I saw you two, I saw Steroid Sam and his two favorite syringes running up at you with a golf club. I knew I couldn't let them kill us, and they gave me three grenades, so…" He trailed off. "I wonder if I got any of them." The thought seemed to scare him. Leslie heard his voice crack and shake on "them."

"If you did, it would have been excellent," Jacob said, still leaning against the tree. "We really owe you one, Cody."

Cody didn't reply. "Did I really kill them?"

"We'll find out later," Jacob said, trying to get Cody's mind in a better place. "I wonder where we are now? We can't be in B2 anymore."

"No, I doubt it," Leslie agreed. She realized with a start she had dropped her map during the confrontation. _Oh well, I didn't know how to read it, anyway._ "Jacob, do you-"

"I think we're at B4 now, I'm positive we went east," Jacob interrupted, now looking at his own map. "Otherwise we would have hit the beach."

"Right," Cody said. "Do you guys have any sort of plan to survive out here? Because there's no way…I can't believe…did I _really_ just kill someone?"

"Well…we _do_ have a plan…"

Jacob Jones (Boy #8) began his explanation over again for their distressed savior Cody Green (Boy #6) as Leslie Haupt (Girl #14) rested her eyes with her stinging back against the same tree as the drummer, hoping to make her heart stop beating at a million miles an hour.

* * *

Luis Valenzula (Boy #20) was not pleased.

"Damn it! Fuck! Shit!"

Both him and Alex Lough (Boy #11) managed to stay out of the blast range for the most part, escaping the grenade with only a few scrapes, cuts and bruises, while Chuck Luttmer (Boy #12) wasn't even close to the grenade when it was thrown. So Luis wasn't pissed off about any injuries.

No, what pissed him off was that they had just let the transvestite, the moron class clown and that loser drummer who was dumb enough to announce where he would be escape. That should have been three easy kills…_would _have been three easy kills if that kid hadn't shown up with fucking _bombs…_

"We need a goddamn gun!" Luis yelled. "Hell, I would take anything that could kill someone from _five fucking feet away!_" He glared at Alex, who looked sheepish with his gold club loosely at his side.

"The bitch runs fast, okay boss?" Alex defended. "And this club must have gotten shorter since we fucked up the faggot a while ago."

"My ass!" Luis yelled. "You're a cross country runner! You're supposed to be fast!" Luis had been pleased with his subordinate's performance so far during this game, but when he couldn't catch up with someone, there was something really wrong with him…

And Chuck hadn't done a _fucking _thing to help them out. He just jogged along like it was some sort of Sunday jog! Luis marched up to the larger boy, whose arms were folded.

"You could have tackled one of them, asshole!" Luis snapped. "I don't give a shit if you don't have a weapon worth a damn, you could have still snapped one of their arms!"

"One of them had knifes, man!" Chuck yelled at his leader. "I'm not getting my fingers chopped off!"

Luis punched his main lieutenant in the face hard enough to make the football player stagger a bit. He hadn't been forced to hit him since they were in elementary school, and now was a weird time to start again.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TALK BACK, ASS WIPE!" Luis screamed at him, his taser charged up. "I'm the fucking boss here, not you! You do what I say or you FUCKING DIE! Am I _clear_?"

Chuck very much looked as if he wanted to strike his leader back, but decided against it. "Sorry…boss."

"Exactly," Luis snapped. "We're following them. _Now._"

Without a word, he walked forward in the direction the other group had went, and Luis Valenzula's (Boy #20) gang members, Alex Lough (Boy #11) and Chuck Luttmer (Boy #12) silently flanked both of his sides.

* * *

**Students Eliminated**

**None**

**39 Students Remaining**

* * *

_(A/N: Yeah, this is even longer than Hour 2...it's scary how my chapters keep getting longer. o.O I don't even mean them to at all, they just go over what I expected. xD Well, I hope the wait was worth it to you guys! Stay turned for Hour 4, and don't forget, READ AND REVIEW!! :D)_


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